


Make Your Heaven On A Devil's Cape

by grapefruity



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Demon on Earth AU, Expect some killing, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23213494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapefruity/pseuds/grapefruity
Summary: A little girl sees shadows and chases them until her feet blister and sting. A woman sees shadows, and decides that she'll make them chase her instead.One of them does, and boy does he *chase*.(Or; Charlie sees demons, in and around her, has no clue why, and Alastor willingly goes along for the ride believing that he's taking the reins on it.)
Relationships: Alastor/Charlie Magne, Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel), More to be added - Relationship, Vaggie/Charlie (past)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 180





	1. Rattlin' In The Closet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this idea one day when I was listening to Big Bad Voodoo Daddy's "Devil's Dance" (a song that inspired the title of this fic too) and had the magnificent idea of a Demon Charlie on Earth who believes she's human, and tries her damn best to understand what's going on in her life while using it to help those around her.
> 
> Alastor is an evil motherfucker, who can't help get suckered in.
> 
> Shenanigans of the unsavoury ensue. 
> 
> This will be a multi-fic that I actually already kind of have a sequel in mind for, but let's not get over our heads. Let's just stick to this for now ey?

Charlie would’ve liked to believe that she was born into this world, as full of rigor and determination as a bull chasing down a red flag – though that, much like many of her other beliefs were just that. _Make believe._ Truth be told, her childhood was a blurry mush in her mind, and the bits and pieces she found herself remembering didn’t help with the image she’s been trying to spin.

“You may sound like you know your onions with this… creepy crawly, topsy turvy nonsense, darling dearest, but no matter how convinced you may be, you’re never gonna stop sounding like you’re full of bushwa baby girl,” Her father had once told her, condescendingly stroking his gloved digits through her golden locks, the reflection of him she caught in her vanity the first she had seen of the man in weeks.

It was when she was six years old that this _nonsense_ as he so called it begun, the family friend Ernesto being the first to gleam her unfortunate interest. Like any curious child, she had snuck out of bed when the ‘rents were busy with business, and had crawled her way down to the kitchen, trying to get a good vantage of all the adulting. Instead, she noticed the elongated shadowy protrusion from the back of the balding man on the foyer, grotesque limbs sticking out in places where he had none. God forbid the child scream, so accustomed to the four limbed pale, _solid_ figures she was used to that this ripped an unnatural cry from her throat.

Her mother had yanked open the door with such a startle that Charlie thought it was the shadow monster coming to tear her to shreds.

“Hush now dearest, it was just a bad dream,” Lilith had whispered into her scalp through the night, cradling her close while Charlie’s breath evened. The real bad dream she had that night was full of shadow monsters, her parents too, her father grinning with a jaw full of jagged teeth, a silky white top hat rivalling the snowy complexion of his skin. And her mother… beautiful as she may be, that didn’t stop the shudder Charlie felt from noticing the length of her horns, and the yellow orbs in her sockets, boring into her like bugs.

“Oh,” She distantly heard, the distorted word moving from her… her mother’s… lips. The demonic figure approached her, picking her up as if she was no more than a bundle. “Look what you’ve done Lu’, you’ve woken Charlotte,” She murmured, hair fluttering around her despite the absence of wind.

“Have I now?” Her father bemusedly responded, the sound of the cane he held, a shiny red apple atop of it echoing steps towards her like a funeral march. “Can’t have that,” He added quieter, running claws down her scalp.

Charlie woke in her own bed in a cold sweat, with the phantom feeling of those same claws raking down her spine.

+

“No you have to listen to me!” She huffed out a breath of frustration, slamming her rather petite and not quite intimidating fists on the counter, raising barely even the quip of an eyebrow from the officer she was addressing. “I just… I _know,_ that he’s in your custody, but… but I think that he can be saved! I think just given the chance we could really turn things around for him, and for everyone after him!”

“You some sort of shrink or something girly?” The gruffer, rounder man beside him grunted. “Because they got a place for that, it’s called the loony bin. Though, the way you been talkin’, I wouldn’t be surprised if they take you in as a patient instead,” He chuckled lowly, the few around him joining in.

If Vaggie were here, Charlie could hear her breathe out a small annoyed ‘ _Men,’_ and for once she’d be inclined to agree.

She squinted her eyes, wishing in that moment she’d been born with a fiercer color than baby blue to her irises, lips pulling into a pout. “I’m saying, that given my studies and research,” She punctuated, dropping the folder of documents, mostly scribblings and blurry pictures she had acquired upon the metal counter. “You should look into letting me open a temporary rehabilitation center for such criminals. Hell, it might even help me get onto them before anyone else can, and stop them before they spiral into the rotten eggs they turned out to be. I _did_ predict dear ol’ Bart would end up with a bit before you even batted your peepers at him,” She folded her arms and tilted her chin with a flourish, daring the men to shoot her down.

Oh, and shoot her down they did.

“Get a load of this phonus balonus!” One of them guffawed, leafing through her folder. “What’s this skirt even on about here? _Demonic aura?_ Shadowy silhouettes? Jeez, now ain’t this a hoot,” He continued, passing the pages around for the rest of them to snicker over. “Now I’ll only say it once doll: You’re wastin’ the precious time of the _law,_ so I suggest you blow before this turns from funny to annoying and I’ll have to put those pretty wrists of yours in some silver. And trust me when I say this, you won’t enjoy it as much as you do that Tiffany,”

She knew a threat when she heard one, and she knew her boundaries long before she had stepped foot in the clubhouse, but it didn’t stop her from having a _little_ hope. Even if it was dashed and trampled all over like a baby roach.

“Fine,” She seethed, gathering her papers up in her hands and spinning on her ankle to make an equally dramatic exit. “But you’ll be sorry when I’m right about yet _another_ mur–“

Before she could finish her sentence, her button nose slammed right into a rather firm, yet somewhat soft surface that smelled of smoke, pinewood and… cinnamon? It was rather comforting, until Charlie realized she had also dropped her papers all over her Mary Jane’s, and a very surprised noise emerged from the pillar.

“My, don’t you look a tad out of sorts?” A bemused and oddly familiar voice chimed. He sounded like he had torn himself right out of the picture show, and Charlie was certainly reacting to him in the same manner, a look of horror donning her features as she peeled herself off of him like he was a red-hot iron.

“Oh dear I—I’m so _terribly_ sorry I’m just _such_ an utter **_klutz_** and oh no I’ve spilled my papers everywhere—” She rattled, eyes bugging between the tall brunette in front of her and the mess she had created on the floor. The policemen from behind her had caught notice of the commotion and a riotous roar of laughter came from them. Yeah. Public servants they sure were.

“Boys!” Said brunette managed to say loudly in a way that was bewitchingly still attractive, clapping his hands together. “I think that’s _no_ way to treat a lovely lady in need now is it? Though given the only thing lying between both… _elephant ears_ are a heaping amount of wax, I’m not surprised you only know how to react in the knee jerk!” He cruelly commented, eyes narrowed but a wide grin still propped upon his sharp features. Charlie balked, brunette stood his ground, and the policemen’s laughter died out unceremoniously with a couple of unsatisfied grunts.

Now this was the Mexican standoff she had definitely not signed up for.

“And, I think we’re on our way! Sorry for the trouble officers!” Her voice found her before she found it, right when she had chanced a look over her shoulder and saw how their shoulders were squaring up. This mystery man may have the voice of honey and the smile of Adonis, albeit a rather maniacal rendition, but he was lithe and slim, whereas these men were, well. They were built like brick shithouses.

Without a second thought, she had snagged her hand through his elbow, pulled him out, and was grateful he had gathered up her papers whilst having his eerie staring contest with four men who could twist him up like a pretzel. Not quite the prince charming she had ordered, if she were ever to have wanted one at all.

“My, you have quite the grip, I’d say you’re hitting on all eight!” He laughed, and there was a familiar lilt to that tinkle that flowed from his perpetually upward turned lips. Two blinks later and it clicked.

“…Oh no,” She gripped at one of her cheeks, when she should’ve been gripping the folder out of his grasp and hurrying out of there to recover what little of her pride she had left. “Oh _no,_ please don’t make me one of your morning anecdotes Mr. Roscoe, even if it’s anonymous I don’t think I could really bear reliving this experience over a cup of—”

“Why what nonsense! I don’t target _every_ innocent bystander for the ways of comedy my dear,” He laughed, handing her the now neatly arranged folder. “And please, Alastor will do. You caused quite the kerfuffle in there! Never before have I seen a dame with such _fire_ in her eyes, such absolute rage! Not for any of the right reasons at least,” A chuckle trailed off from that statement and Charlie could still feel the heat emanating off of her cheeks. Of course she of all people would make an absolute fool out of herself in front of one of the few voices in this town she could recognize, one that she found herself chuckling too as she cracked eggs in the pan for supper or had her feet tapping to the music he’d put on. There was a reason he was known around these parts, and of course her acquaintanceship with him when materialized consisted of her acting an absolute ditz.

Yet, despite that he looked rather intrigued by the little display she had put on, peering at her from behind his wiry frames with an amused smile, pearly whites glinting at her from behind the stretch of his lips. “Truthfully, I was approaching you to ask about what I’d managed to overhear! It was just an unlucky twist of fate that we should collide rather than seamlessly meet, but ah, what can’t be helped can’t be helped now!” There was just an overwhelming air of energy that poured from him and shook in his shoulders with every chuckle that was pronounced in the movement of his chest. She twiddled her fingers together and tucked her folder closer to her chest, finally looking up to observe his features properly.

Bright brown eyes bore into her own and her throat suddenly felt dry. How one person could appear so captivating but intimidating all the same was... entirely beyond her. Something about him just unsettled yet captivated her but she couldn’t quite put a finger to it. There wasn’t the chance to either, as that bright voice weaved its way between her thoughts like a colorful snake. “Perhaps we could rehash this in a more civil environment, maybe over a coffee or a Sazerac?” He did have quite the charming smile though, and the way he curved an eyebrow up at her with the proposition had her fighting back her own smile. 

“Maybe,” Was what she managed to get out after recovering her voice again. “Though, surely you were here for your own reasons?”

“Just a bit of a troublesome friend of mine that had found himself in a pickle! I was here to simply see what help I could offer to help him out of it,” He said it with such ease, as if there was nothing alarming about someone being brought down by the dogs. “Which reminds me I must get going. Pleasure meeting you Miss…?”

“Charlotte. Charlie,” That dazzling smile she reserved for certain situations couldn’t help but blossom. “And a _coffee,_ sounds splendid. We’ll see about that Sazerac,”

“Wonderful!” He exclaimed, turning to assess the front door before deciding the side entrance might be a better bet. “Find me at Ace of Spades any time around two,” Two fingers saluted her farewell, as did a wink that made her clutch her papers a little tighter. “I’ll be waiting,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that ends chapter 1! I will be updating weekly, or as often as I can on top of both two jobs and a double degree, but forgive me if I run a little late. The rating on this fic might change as we progress, but for now I feel this is a suitable one. 
> 
> There is 20's slang in here, though I haven't italicized a lot of it thus far as I feel like a lot of it so far makes sense. If not do drop a comment! I will do my best to add translations as we proceed.


	2. (Don't Hesitate) You've Gotta Make The Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little foreground on how Alastor moves within his own shadows and finds his way to Charlie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are still a little slow to warm here, think a slow boil and this is just as it hits a little above room temperature; i'm writing this from Alastor's POV (sort of) to try and balance them both out before I bring the plot in proper, but with the lockdown here in Australia and the fact that I'm both out of Uni and work for the time being, I'll endeavour to upload a little sooner just to get the ball rolling
> 
> if you're still here after the first chapter, i promise it only goes up from here, and the boring talky talk moves into acty act

For all of her gushing, Charlie had started to earn something of a reputation herself. More so amongst the heathens and deadbeats that Alastor unfortunately encountered in his day to day, but there were whispers inescapable to his ever-attentive ears. “ _Some uppity **witch** thinks she can save people just because their shadows be lookin’ a lil’ funny,” _Was what Husk had grunted to him over polished oak wood, sliding his bourbon neat over to him with an unamused eye roll. Alastor on the other hand found it absolutely joyful. What a ridiculous little creature! Not only was she apparently the sight to behold – words that could mean less to him – but she also had arrived with two suitcases, dressed far posher than most around these parts and had immediately begun her journeys in the seediest of the seedy. It was quite the wonder how the little bird had yet to have been zotzed!

Initially, the talk in town was just that she was a new it girl, and men eyed her like the hungry animals they were. Alastor, having no appetite at all for ogling broads like some common runt, forgot about this information in a matter of minutes. Then, it was that she was a bit of a kook, approaching men who were minding their own business or maybe giving some fella the eye and breaking it up before anything had started, claiming to have seen their… _bad aura._ Then, she was handing out brochures to random’s she had selected, of talk of an up and coming rehabilitation service, and she was holding a presentation of sorts outside what was to be this ‘hotel’ of hers. And _then_ she was getting into it with the police who had enough of her stirring fear amongst old women and paranoid housewives, finding all sorts of ways to shut down this little business of hers before it even had a sliver of hope for taking off.

Yes, these facts were ones that Alastor found more and more entertaining.

_Had_ he come to bail out Husk from a brawl that he had initiated after purposefully intoxicating his temperamental handyman when he overheard the talk that she had taken it upon herself to go and talk some sense into the very people aggravating her the most? Certainly! Had he purposefully bumped into her to skim the pages of what she had written? Most definitely! Was it all worth it? More than that!

Now, let’s not mistake Alastor for a man without the appreciation for that _je ne sais quoi_ a charming belle might rouse had she chosen complementary fabrics for her fair skin, or coiffed her blonde locks in a way that made her look absolutely divine. He could definitely see the appeal in her beauty, though what it roused in him was closer to the sublime feeling of beauty that one might experience watching stars twinkle on a particularly beautiful night. But that was secondary. Her scribblings nearly made him chortle, which was why it was so much harder to subdue the wide grin he had on the rest of his interaction with her.

But she had surprised him, at the very end, just a spark of fiery attitude after a long stretch of her delightfully peachy cheeks being patted by her hand.

Thus, it was in all manners of cheerfulness that he had strolled into the holding room, hands tucked in his pockets and a content smirk in place that Husk made a grunt of acknowledgement. “Took you long enough you candy striped asshole, you know how long I been sittin’ here with a splittin’ headache? Too long I tell you, too fucking long to only get your smarmy wise guy smile to show for it,” The burly older man snarled at him, pressing a makeshift ice pack tighter against his purpling eye.

The on-duty guard, cliché in all manners from the legs up on his desk and the newspaper spread across his knees finally gave him a disapproving look over the top of the paper. “Hey buddy, you here to bail this loudmouth out or share the oxygen with the rest of us? Because the latter stopped being an option the minute you distracted me from this,” To deliver his point, he ruffled the inked pages, headlines of a turf war brewing at Alastor who didn’t flinch a bit.

“Bail it is! I’ve just been waiting for someone to oh so graciously stick out their flippers and accept this money I am so willing to give away! Wherever would this fine gentleman be?” He snickered at the comical way the guard narrowed his eyes, peeling himself from his post, looking far too miffed for a man who had barely an hour left on the job.

+

“Lemme ask you something Al’,”

“Go ahead Husker, my dear old friend,”

“First of all ­– stop it with this _Husker_ bullshit. I’m not a goddamn Walrus. Secondly, do you just _need_ to piss off everyone in your vicinity? Like, you see anyone around you and you target lockdown on them and go ‘oh golly gee I sure would like to take a ripe hot piss in his coffee!”

“It is _hardly_ my fault that you were the one who landed yourself in this situation, nor is it my fault that it seems every single one of the fuzz I’ve talked to tonight seems to have sat on a particularly prickly seat!”

A growl brewed in the burly older man’s throat, causing him to stop short of the backdoor of their makeshift office, key clutched tightly in one hand while he still had that ridiculous slightly soggy ice pack glued to his purpling eyebrow. Alastor stood there rather impatiently looking between doorknob and key. “I may not be a psycho like you but I’m sober enough now to realize you were playing me before. What gives? Your next hit gonna be one of the force? Because that’s not a mess I’m willing to clean,”

To give him credit where credit was due, it was amazing that Husk could somewhat make out something of the plan Alastor had in mind from only a few hours ago, as most of the time the veteran would rather solve the mystery at the bottom of a bottle than wonder about why it was that Alastor might switch the color of his tie every now and then. Though, most of his choices didn’t involve rough housing the man in question and having in thrown into lock up.

“No not at all! What do you take me for, some lowly mobster?” A proud laugh was produced as the click of his heeled wingtip shoes resounded in the cluttered storeroom. There was some dust – correction, a _lot_ of dust filtering through the room from what he could tell by the crack of light seeping in, and he ran a gloved finger over one of the shelves with mild disgust. “No I have no business with the police. If I could help it, I would stay as far as possible from those bumbling fools, if only to uphold my untarnished reputation of only associating with those befitting of my caliber of entertainment. Quite the opposite, I had business with who might be seeking them out instead, oh ho, quite the feisty little one it was!”

“…Man, do you ever, stop talking in riddles?” The door shut behind them, Husk yanking on a chain at a poor attempt to bring light into the room. It illuminated the cool and unmoving expression Alastor had that told him he was nowhere near getting a response to that question.

+

His waiting game was one that he kept at the back of his mind. If the dame decided to show, he’d play chase with her as a serpent might with a mouse, until he grew bored and decided to swallow her whole. If not, well, she wouldn’t be hard to come across, and tales of her antics were enough to keep him just interested enough. For now.

But show she did – three days later, when Alastor had a yellowing edition of Ezra Pound’s _Personae_ propped between two fingers, and a room temperature cup of black coffee in the other.

“I hope I haven’t kept you long,” A familiar smooth voice rolled over him, like the river current over smooth rocks. It made him smile from behind his text, flickering hazel eyes up at her from over the inky blots of text.

“She drew from out the shadows of the past, and old-world melodies that else,” He paused, took a breath, glanced back down at the page and dramatically flipped it. She stood completely still; wide eyes unsure of what to make of this sudden outburst from him. “He had known only in his dreams, off Iseult and of Beatrice,” He finished with flourish, shutting the book and pressing it to the tabletop. “Have a seat, that is what it’s there for!” His hand made a gesture towards it, drinking in the sight before him. So, she had made her first foray into the world of absolute fault, stumbling like a young doe waiting to be shot in the leg. He smiled quite contentedly at the thought.

“Of course,” She stumbled, quickly withdrawing the chair and fluttering into it like some divine creature. “So, I’ve been thinking, which is why I waited to accept your invitation. So, I must be candid with you when I say that… I was kind of hoping I might perhaps, ask a favour or two from you?”

This interested him, enough to lean back in his seat and consider what this might mean. No one who knew him well enough took him to be a man they could play to their own tune, and often when women approached him for a favour it typically had something to do with getting themselves on air. He made some vague gesturing with his fingers, a signal for her to go on.

“Well,” She twirled a strand of curly blonde hair around her finger, making a show of leafing through the menu propped against the side of the menu. “It’s a little awkward to come out with this but, I have this little project in the works right now,”

“Ah yes, your rehabilitation service? I doubt you’ll need my helping hand to get the word around at this point,”

She reddened immediately, though he couldn’t miss the crease that formed between her brows at the rather mocking way he brought it up. “N-No that’s– I wasn’t going to ask about being on the _radio_. That’s jeopardising your job and I would never dream of asking a stranger something of the sort,” She tucked that insistent strand of hair behind her ear, finally closing the menu after having her fill of it. “No I was, well, I was kind of hoping you’d just… come down and have a look at the place? Have a look at the plans and the draw ups? It’s just– you work in an industry wherein you know what hooks people and what doesn’t, and I’d really just like some of your input on what tweaks might help make the idea more… appealing?”

That certainly wasn’t what he was expecting, though it did little to catch him off guard than have him lean in with a predatorial grin. “You want me to be the one to give you constructive criticism on this big dream of yours? Was I not a ‘stranger’ as you so put it just a few moments ago?”

Now she had nothing to say to that. Instead she flagged down the waitress, meekly ordered a coffee with cream and sugar and pursed her lips in thought. “Yes, that you are. But you did also just express that you’re well aware of who I am, what I’m doing here and haven’t yet ridiculed me at least, externally, _and_ you invited me here. Ulterior motives aside, I think I would like to hear what you have to say,” She straightened her back, almost as if directing him with a command. “I mean– if you’re free. And, I wouldn’t be opposed to learning more about this… well this whole place. I figure you’re probably well versed on it while I am… very much the opposite,”

This creature before him continued to stare straight at him, chest puffed out with an air of authority even if her eyes couldn’t hold his gaze to save her life. “You do know I work for radio, not the local tour company?”

“I think I’d rather hear your voice over the droning of a tour guide’s any day,” She quipped immediately, relaxing more so into her seat.

He’d already known he would accept from the moment the proposition was put forth – but there was plenty of his own agenda left to fulfil before he could step those five steps ahead being offered to him. No, he was definitely going to bide his time with this. “Well then, why don’t I start with that? After you’ve had your java of course,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lines Alastor reads to her are from the book mentioned, Ezra Pounds "Personae" and specifically the poem "Ferrara 1715". Personae is based on the idea of people going through life and adopting many masks, and Pound writes in the style of different time periods based on the 'mask' he adopts as a poet. I thought it was fitting given that all the characters in this little fic are essentially doing exactly the same thing.


	3. Eyes Like An Angel, Smiles Like A Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright! and thus begins the plot rolling forward! this double chapter update is an exception i expect will be exclusive to this week, and at best I'll space it five days apart from here on out, but this was just for the sake of /going/ somewhere. i am such a nitpicky stickler for set up that maybe i got in over my head with the first two chapters, but now i think we're ready to go B)

The help she had requested wasn’t altogether untrue, and Alastor seemed a cheerful enough fella to indulge her, but that hadn’t exactly been her sole reason for seeking his counsel. From the moment she had met him, laid eyes on his rather out of place smile and heard his insistently jubilant tone of voice, there had been something she couldn’t quite place about him. It wasn’t dissimilar from when she could see the bulbous shadowy protrusions stemming from the shadow of a certain individual, or just smell the beginnings of rot on a man that looked cleanly washed. If anything, the feeling it roused in her was more advanced than that. It was dread mingled with anticipation.

Truthfully, she couldn’t quite make of him what his ‘aura’ was, as she was dubbing it for the time being, but for his upbeat attitude there was a lack of the warmth that she experienced around those genuinely pure of heart. And if he could find a way to tell her how her services might be better presented, perhaps she could lure him in as well, reform him without his even realising. Well– no, that sounded a little too dodgy. More so just change how she ran things so that he’d be roped in as well.

“Besides stirring the hearts of the wannabe voodoo queens in the area, is there anything else you take an interest in Miss. Charlie? Step one of creating an appealing business is creating a likeable and relatable personality,” After they had parted, he had paid the bill, stood to put his coat on and left leaving her only with the option to follow.

In the month she had spent in town, half of it was spent trying her best to set up meetings with those she thought might be of service to her, those that were her father’s associates that had shown up on her door unwelcome, and those that she had seen the void sucking deeper into their depths. The next moment, she was tangled in a fist fight and blinking at two confused men who she couldn’t begin to explain her plans to.

The other half was spent trying to rehabilitate these wayward souls, initially under the guise of offering a big inpatient counselling to, until one night she’d let liquor make loose lips of her and had maybe gone a little overboard in selling the plan to some chumps.

None of it was spent actually trying to integrate. “It’s not voodoo,” She defensively said, crossing her arms across her chest as she shot him a dirty look. She’d had enough mockery for a lifetime, the last thing she needed was more of it from another man. “And even if the general population didn’t believe what I had to say, I’ve never been _wrong,_ ”

“And you’ve never proven to be right,” He pointed out, steering her down a cobbled path, the sound of the stream and the smell of river water refreshing her senses. “Claiming to have a hunch about someone isn’t a proclamation that your tummy full of bad juju can beat the law at their own game!”

“What exactly do you know about my ‘proclamations’? I find it a little disconcerting that someone who claims to _not_ be using me as a source for morning entertainment and mockery already has such a clearly drawn up idea of me from a simple run in and a coffee,” She huffed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re having me followed for exactly what you’re claiming to not be doing,”

“If _I_ didn’t know any better, it sounds like you’re scrambling to a defence because you realise how ludicrous this all sounds!” He calmly responded, that easy-going grin still plastered to his face. In fact, she was fairly sure she had yet to see him emote in anything _beyond_ smiles. “Go on then, do a reading on me, what hinky energy do you see within me Miss. Charlie?” He leaned in, leering at her in a way that made her burn in annoyance until he straightened back up with an amused laugh. “Oh, no need for the sour expression, I’m simply bumping gums with you there. Besides, in all your huffing and puffing, you’re seeming to miss the point of this little excursion. I don’t just carve time out of my day like you do just for excursions! So why not focus less on me and more on what I brought you here for," A sweeping gesture towards what was behind him was made, as was an obvious nod of his head to get her to stop frowning at him.

With her brows still furrowed and her fingers clenched in her palms, she chanced a look away to notice they had now come upon a river, leading through bustling streets – the afternoon sun made the swampy water glimmer in a way that she hadn’t really seen before in the concrete jungle of New York, and the Mississippi kites overhead added the occasional chirp to add to the ambience of the scene.

“There we go! A smile suits you _much_ better dear girl! You may actually win someone over if you dial up the charm like that!” He tilted her chin up, beaming down at her as she was drawn back to him. “While we’re here, may I have the gracious honour of welcoming you to Mississippi River, a vast stream of the natural world streaked through the hubbub of our very own French Quarter!” The voice he put on was all for show she knew, and unlike the prior annoyance she felt bubbling up towards this man, it was replaced with a chuckle. If he had a top hat and cane to grab in either hand with a flourish, it might have just completed the tone.

“So, this is where I’ve heard so much about,” She finally said, bluebell eyes glazing over from looking at the river to the canopies and streets, flappers and gentlemen, women and buskers making their way through the streets. “It was the first place my father warned me against going to, heh, guess I accidentally made good on that promise…”

“You’re a grown woman, now aren’t you? Let’s say you make your own promises and we get to that Sazerac we talked about,” He winked at her and she couldn’t help but bite a bit of her smile back as she took the hand offered to her. If she _was_ going to get to know him better, this might be the chance to do so before she found herself trying to figure him out in _her_ domain.

+

Two drinks in and Charlie was beginning to feel the ever-familiar tell-tale signs of a warming to her skin and a more willing disposition. Alastor, when plied with a little more alcohol was a little easier to talk to. She’d found that she had made the rounds in the local chinning as some sort of self-proclaimed witch, looked like a million bucks compared to most, and was far too doe in the headlights for him to torture oh so easily. He on the other hand, had requested her presence over coffee simply from having watched her fiery exchange at the Johns*. That and the exchange told him within the first couple minutes who she was, so he wasn’t going to pass up a chance at dispelling the rumours and seeing the real deal, considering how warped the truth got when passed around.

“That sounds to me like baloney and an excuse to nibble one with fresh meat,” She said accusatorially, even with the way she raised a brow and grinned over the rim of her glass. He had a cigarette lit between his fingers, and he brought it up for a drag at her accusation, blowing a steady and slow stream of smoke as he bided his time.

“I think if that was truly my intention darling, I would have come right out with it instead of operating under the guise of trying to understand this hocus pocus of yours that’s giving me a run for my money,” He pointed out finally, completely unfazed by her statement whilst the band playing in the drum* took a more upbeat turn. Trumpets and bass glided through the air in a way that lifted the man’s spirit, the rhythmic tapping of his foot from under the table of the dimly lit booth drawing her attention.

He had a point – he was handsome enough and a smooth talker that she could see him being blunt enough to court any woman without meandering around small talk. Though, that didn’t stop him from being something of a rather hinky hombre* in the unflinching way he seemed to reflect jibes and turn them into something biting and amusing for himself.

“Dancing,” She breathed, watching the scene coming to life before her very eyes on the dance floor. When she was settled still at home, most of the parties that she had fun were the ones Anthony could attend with her. And that usually consisted of some weird humdrum mix thrown together by his extensive Italian family, before he’d taken to the streets and she had spent the last few years wondering why he’d left without a word. _Here,_ they didn’t dance in a way where every step was calculated, here it was like they danced to celebrate just being _alive._

“I’m not sure I quite follow,” Alastor interrupted her focus on the colourful assortment of outfits pivoting around one another amidst the harmony of noise in the background.

“Dancing. You asked what else I’m interested in,” She glided out of her seat, removed her hat and ruffled her hair, letting herself spin around in giddy joy. How long had it been since she had truly enjoyed herself and had fun? How long since she had a night on the town, and not just a sad drink or two at the local hash house* to get her through the ever more difficult days. Not since… not since Vaggie. “So, I think for all the teasing and mocking, you can at least indulge me in a dance?”

To her elated surprise, he looked incredibly pleased over this little revelation she had shared with him and sprung from his seat. “With such hotsy-totsy words I’d think you were the one making moves on me!” He slid his hand into hers, thankfully this time not because he was helping her off her butt and spun her around, guiding her back to the dancefloor. “No better question could have been asked,”

Alastor had an undeniable energy to him and Charlie, having been a foreigner to a lot of the jazzy show tunes and beats that weren’t commonplace in her upbringing didn’t find falling into tune all that difficult. Three songs in and it seemed they had eyes on them from around the room as they twisted, turned, pulled each other in and snapped back out like they were notes jumping around on a song sheet. The lively energy had more people yet piling onto the dancefloor and soon the room was alive with the sound of feet tapping and couples glimmering as they danced under the saturated lights of the room.

“You sure know how to get a guy to work up a sweat,” He said to her two more songs later, when the tempo slowed into one more befitting of a slow dance, one of his hands modestly resting on her waist while the other held up her hand.

“Yes well, consider it part of my many voodoo talents,” She snickered, to which he joined in, the both of them giggling softly as they swayed to the beat. “You could give me a run for my money yourself, though I’ll have to put that hypothesis to the test further before I draw any conclusions,”

“Are you saying you’d like to do this again? My my, now who’s wooing who? No need to line* me just to get me to check out a dingy old shack and some high-flying dreams,” He said, squeezing the hand he held in his own.

“That’s not what I’m…” She looked up at him to retort, but suddenly something had shifted. It was like the rest of the room had blurred together in a mess of smudges, whereas Alastor was crystal clear in her vision. He still had that same charming grin on, but there was something in the narrow slants of his eyes that made her blood run cold unexplainably. It was like she was looking into the eyes of a feline that had just settled on the mouse it wanted to snatch for the night. ‘It’s just the drinks Charlie, you always get ahead of yourself,’ She squeezed her eyes shut and gave her head a little shake as if that would dissipate the image.

“Charlie?” He suddenly slowed, forcing her to blink her eyes back open again. “Is everything alright?”

There was a bright flash from where he stood, and when she blinked again it was like there was something elongating from behind him, antlers twisting above his head and the twisted smile of a black, inky monster grinning down from just above where he was looking at her with concern.

“I–“ She disentangled herself from him, nearly tripping over herself in the meantime. “I... I need to jet,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe hehehe
> 
> here's some 20s slang translations btw!!
> 
> Nibble one; Have a drink with  
> Johns; Police  
> Drum; Speakeasy  
> Hinky Hombre; Suspicious fellow  
> Hash House; Cheap restaurant  
> Line; Insincere flattery


	4. She's Always Right, I'm Never Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so! this one's got hints of chaggie and an introduction to my favorite still-to-be-featured demoness; i'll still be keeping to the weekly updates, but i've been hit by a flood of work to do from home so if there's a delay, that's why
> 
> anyway! there is a little flip flopping in the 3rd person pov here, though hopefully not too awkwardly – aaaaaand that said, given my running out of time iiiiiii might be looking for a 2nd person to come in and help me beta. (emphasis on maybe)
> 
> okay for now though – onward!

When Vagatha – Or Vaggie, as she preferred to be called, given her of fear of sounding like an _abuelita_ – received the morning post, the last name she expected to see in cursive handwriting neatly written across an enveloped smelling vaguely of candlewax and meadows was “Charlotte Magne”.

It had been a little over two months since the blonde had taken her fluttery lashes, sunshining smile and sunny disposition with her in a suitcase to New Orleans, and she couldn’t say there was a part of her that considered the immediate disposal of the paper that she held onto with a slight tremor.

Three hours later next to a cup of cold tea, she gave in, delicately separating fold from sheet with an envelope knife.

+

_Dearest Vaggie,_

_First and foremost, I regret how long it has taken for this letter to arrive or be written at all. Truth be told, there hasn’t been a day where your motivation hasn’t driven me to continue on this path, I’ve chosen to take without you. Plenty a time it would’ve been so much easier to throw in the towel and make my way home, make my way back to lunch in the back garden or huddling over the radio._

_And that’s kind of where I want to admit that I can’t do this without you. I need you here Vaggie, I just… I can’t do this alone. I’ve met someone here who didn’t show any signs of menace when I first met him, was someone even relatively kind if not just a bit of an arse. But out of nowhere, with no prompting tonight I witnessed possibly the most terrifying things in my short life, and I need a levelheaded advisor. You know that’s always been you._

_And I miss you. Is that so bad to admit? I know we have our past and I’m… always going to be sorry for how it ended between us for that little while. But you’ll always occupy a special place in my heart. I understand if you throw this away. Or burn it. Or feed it to the dogs. I just needed to write you._

_Love, Charlie._

#

The days following the ‘incident’ as Charlie had called it, there was an odd lack of disturbance in her following interactions. Whilst that could be attributed to how she confined herself to her study most of the time, looking over potential investors and trying to make sense of the current stock market to see how compliant they might be, it still was a little odd for her. The company a fair few people kept to varying degrees of demonic forms had become part of her daily routine, so much so now that there was nothing left that could spook her.

Or so she thought.

Alastor hadn’t come by the hotel, though he was a man with a job – one which she still tuned into every now and then, catching his unmistakable laughter every now and then and taking note of the little musical recommendations of his with a smile. Mayhaps, it was simply her intoxication that exaggerated the form of his she saw that night, gliding around in his arms. It might’ve even been both of their lightly tipsy states combined with the boost of serotonin _she_ was experiencing if not both of them.

Speaking of serotonin… being cooped up indoors and running her head with numbers, both of the telephone sort and the money sort was starting to give her a migraine and she was due for another grocery run. Standing up to stretch, that wasn’t the only thing she was due for, given the way her knees creaked as if she was twenty years her senior.

And a peek into her wardrobe revealed that she was running low on winter clothing, if the silk scarf that still let the chill of the wind creep under her neck indicated anything.

+

By the time Charlie emerged from the market, a basket full of an abundance of fruit and vegetables and a chill biting at her cheeks, she spotted the window front on her way back, too distracted by the pastel hues to care about the ache developing in her shoulder. A glove tentatively pressed to the glass just under a particular coat, a dusty magenta hue with black buttons sewn in on either side.

She wasn’t too sure how long she had spent admiring the detailing of the fabric, or the way it draped like a cloud around the mannequin before she noticed two pairs of eyes staring quizzically at her from within. One pair in particular was, awfully familiar?

The realization nearly made her drop her basket on her feet, which would’ve been humiliating given that the last thing she wanted was for Alastor to witness her make yet another monumental fall from grace. Though, the sound of the bells on the door chiming to reveal a slender woman with a long slim neck, deep black hair and a form fitting yet modest fuschia dress popping out came close to making that horror a reality. “Would you like to come in dear? You look like you’re starting to freeze out there, it sure would give my mannequins a run for their money!” She laughed breathily, indicating that Charlie should follow behind her before disappearing inside.

Now that the gig was up, she couldn’t help but follow, and part of her was curious as to what other wonders this little emporium would hold. Such as, why it was that she kept running into one of New Orlean’s most listened to voices, and why he was in a women’s clothing store to begin with.

“Charlie!” He said, flashing her that dazzling smile of his when she finally closed the door behind her. “My, it’s been a while hasn’t it? I was a little worried after that stunt of yours the other night, though I hadn’t a clue whether I was the one who caused you distress or if it was something else entirely,” There was just a little tightening to the way he smiled, suggesting that he seemed a little concerned that he had in fact caused her to scamper out of the scene.

“I wasn’t aware the two of you were familiar,” The woman from behind the counter piped up, toying with the gem of her necklace while she flipped through a stack of paperwork. “And in any case, before you poach my potential customer Alastor sweetie, I saw you eyeing up the coat in the display,” She looked like a cat, calm and collected in her movements but directing Charlie exactly where she wanted. “Would you like to try it on?”

Before she could give a response, the other woman had already crossed the room in but a few elegant strides and plucked it right off the mannequin, her hands guiding Charlie around to face herself in the mirror as the garment was offered to her. Without much room to refuse, she slid her arms into the plush suede, the woolen cuffs adding a nice brush of warmth to the whole thing. That, paired with the black skirt and white button up she had on, she looked rather professional, if she could say so herself.

“Fits her like a glove, don’t you agree Alastor?” The woman hummed, smoothing down the creases from where she stood behind Charlie, while Alastor gave her a glance over that was respectful, nonetheless.

“I’ll certainly say,” He finally said with a low note of appreciation, and she couldn’t help but let the smile crinkle at the corners of her eyes. But just from the very _feel_ of it, it wasn’t something she could afford – not any time soon at least, and she still had one last priority.

“It’s beautiful,” She said with one last resigned breath as she daintily ran her fingers over the fabric on the outside, admiring the shiny buttons that accompanied it. “But I was actually wondering if you might sell any um, hair accessories? Ribbons and the like?”

+

“It’s a crying shame you didn’t end up purchasing the coat for yourself, you looked like an angel cake in it,” She’d allowed Alastor to accompany her back, picking up the basket she’d in one hand for her leaving her with the ribboned box surrounded by champagne paper in the lilac bag. “Though I’d think it was more a crying shame you had to run out so early the other night. Pardon my badgering but whatever was that about?”

She fiddled with the rope of the bag, glazing across the golden ‘Rosie’s Emporium’ embossed on it before she gave him a sheepish look. “I– um, I forgot that I had left the oven on, and that my parents were expecting a call from me. The alcohol sort of just… amplified the panic. I’m sorry, it was terribly rude of me,”

Given the way he studied her features so intently, he wasn’t falling for her deception either, but it wasn’t like he knew her well enough to call her out on a lie. A quiet moment of silence was all that was needed to pass between them for her to acknowledge that she hadn’t had him convinced, but he didn’t push the topic any further. “Ah that’s a shame then, I was quite enjoying the magnificent performance you were putting on! My, the last time I had a dance partner that good I was just a lad standing on the edge of his mother’s feet being pulled along to the melody,”

“Well, Mr. Roscoe,” She began before she could catch up to her mouth and stop herself. “You’re welcome to stand on my feet if you need the guidance whenever you so please,” Nor could she control the way she bit at her lower lip playfully, glad for taking up his companionship on the journey back. The ache of running around with more food than she could carry was starting to hurt in her neck, and she was starting to long for the pleasures of a warm bath. The company was at least making a desolate journey slightly more palatable.

Just when they rounded the corner to the mansion – an old, idea of what might be a holiday home before her father decided New Orleans was too much of a ‘dump’ – she came to a halt, aches long forgotten. Alastor too stopped, though less abruptly and trailed her gaze to the girl perched on the stairs, two duffel bags beside her. From first glance, he mistook her as a potential resident, and blinked at her in the same surprise she regarded him with – no way had someone fallen prey to Charlie’s silly little plot, had they?

Charlie on the other hand, slid her hand out from his elbow, their discussion rudely interrupted by the presence of this long-haired Latino lady, drowning herself in monochromes. “Vaggie!” She breathed; all life returned to her rosy complexion while her spine went erect as if she had woken up fully rejuvenated that morning.

Alastor stood back, basket still in hand while the blonde beside him fully detached to amble along and throw her arms around the woman’s neck. The hostility that was growing in the glare she faced him with softened at the touch of Charlie’s arms, her own coming up to return the motion.

“Hey Charlie,” She mumbled, finally a serene look gracing her features as she ran a hand down Charlie’s back before they pulled away. “I uh, well, I got your letter,” She produced a slightly rumpled envelope from beside her and gave it something of a shake. “…Who’s this? Is this a resident?” She finally got to the point nodding over to Alastor with an unmistakable crease between her brows.

“Oh um!” Charlie detached herself enough to give Alastor a meaningful look over her shoulder. “Not quite, he’s… a friend,” She dared, and Alastor gave her a bit of a nod and a warmed smile. “He’s agreed to help out with some of the planning and help shape it into a more agreeable sort of invitation to the public,”

That did nothing to erase that persistent crease between Vaggie’s brows, though she heaved a sigh, standing up to dust off her skirt a little as she looked towards her bags. “…Right. I didn’t realise we were trusting strangers too with this but, hey, it’s your plan Charlie, I trust you to run it the way you see best,”

It didn’t sound entirely like she did, and Charlie too looked a little lost for words at that, before she remembered the basket that was still gripped in the man of question’s hand. “Oh, Al’, thank you by the way,” She said, the same radiant smile on as she made her way back to him to retrieve the groceries. “I should probably help Vaggie settle in, and maybe put these goods to the test,” The little bubbly laugh that emerged made it easier to release it to her, as he shrugged his shoulders, just slightly annoyed at this unexpected interruption. “But you know where we are now, and something tells me I’ll be running into you again anyway,”

“Naturally darling,” He assured her, taking her hand that she offered for the basket to kiss her knuckles, largely just to see how Vaggie might react to it from the corner of her eye. There was a bristling on her part, and he couldn’t help but smirk at that response.

Once Charlie had said her final goodbyes, with assurance that he now had permission to drop by whenever he wanted a chat or a coffee – or to finally do what he promised and look over some of her plans, she headed towards the oak doors, grabbing for one of the bags as the two headed in.

Just before they fully closed, he managed to make out Vaggie’s hushed, but loud enough, “So, is _he_ the one you told me about?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was a serious lack of slang in here but i figured most of it wasn't necessary – anywho, stay tuned for next week and an introduction to everyone's *favorite* porn star ;-)


	5. Snatch That Key, Hide It In Your Pocket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so, I know I said Angel would be making an appearance this chapter, and I was wrong– I've put that for a later chapter for the time being, but, Niffty does finally turn up to complete Alastor's band of travelling freaks
> 
> additionally I think it is worth mentioning that if I use '+' to break up segements it's kept in the same perspective of the OG character, but a '#' is for a switch in character POV!
> 
> hope that helps, aaaand onwards we go

Whilst it was delightful to have Vaggie with her again, no matter how much their relationship had changed from what it had been, there was just the small matter about how she felt about…

“ _Alastor?_ Why do you keep going out with that creep? I swear every time he looks at you it’s like he’s thinking about the best way to crack your skull open and drink out of it,” She groused, blitzing the knife through the onions she was cutting up with more force than was intended. Charlie balked slightly at the door, plucking at the fabric of her skirt as she racked her brain for a plausible reason that would give Vaggie enough cause to just put the knife down and relax.

“That’s a bit extreme Vaggie, you don’t even know him! He’s been wonderfully patient with our remodeling some plans and, well, reaching out in more meaningful ways,” She left out the part about how she’d been deliberately prolonging this whole process, with her more sporadic flare ups since the ‘incident’. When she’d first told Vaggie about it, as delicately as she could, she was fairly sure it was still enough for her to consider packing Charlie away into a suitcase and wheeling her away from the town for good.

“Tell me this _corazoncito,_ what do you think he stands to gain from you from all this? At best, he’s probably just using you for a cheap laugh, sees you as some chick who startles at shadows, and despite what he says is probably using you as a story to tell to his drinking buddies when you’re not around,” There was a frown forming upon Charlie’s features, but Vaggie went on, knife still loosely held in her grip as she elaborated. “At worst, he’s no better than any other man! They all want one thing from a pretty girl that seems like she’s got her head in the clouds, trust me when I say I know better than anyone,” An accusatory flick of the knife’s point in Charlie’s direction didn’t have her flinching as much as it had her bristling a bit.

“I understand your concern Vaggie,” She eventually said, stepping forward to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “But– I know, when these things are going to happen remember? And– you know I’ll be forever regretful that I couldn’t stop what happened with you in time,” With that solemn note, she withdrew her hand slowly, not before rubbing a small reassuring circle into her shoulder. “I know you’ll always blame me for it but… trust me with Alastor. I know what I’m doing. He’s well connected, and regardless of whether he’s turning me into the butt of a practical joke, at least I’m making acquaintances in higher places. Eventually my… erm… skills, will come in handy, and someone will change their mind about things,”

“You’re too trusting,” She finally breathed, though her hand came up to cup Charlie’s, black eyes begging her to stay. “You always were, and you’re too special to be like that. Someday someone really bad will take advantage of it,”

“Cheer up Miss. Doom and Gloom,” Charlie pressed a peck to the little crease between her brows, pulling away to pull her purse off the wall. “I’ll be back by evening latest,”

#

Finding a moment alone with Charlie was proving more tedious the more she curried favour amongst her cohorts, not to mention that incessant _moth_ that hung by her side day and night, fixing him with rude glances whenever he chanced upon them in the streets. It wasn’t improving his mood to recall the ribbon Charlie had picked up at Rosie’s instead of the coat that made her look like a lovely little cake, nestled in the black tresses of this woman who insisted on taking up her time.

“Any progress with that chick? You figured out what makes her tick yet?” Husk blearily mumbled over the rim of the latest bottle in his collected of scattered trash. The smell of vodka had embedded itself in his salt and pepper hair and had Alastor wrinkling his nose a little. “I’m honestly surprised you’re keeping up this gig, you usually get bored of newcomers within a week at best,”

“Yes well, I haven’t quite had much of an acquaintanceship that’s provided me with boredom just yet,” He checked the clock, looked through the paperwork he had drawn up and peered into the next room where Nina was heaving a mattress twice her size up to tuck at the flat sheet for the third time that day. “Niffty darling, please tell me you’re not looking for bed bugs again?” He called boredly, flattening out the paperwork before tucking it away into his bag.

“Oh no! No no no, what would make you think that?” She laughed nervously, dropping the mattress with an unceremonious ‘floof’, the springs complaining as she backed away from it innocently with hands behind her back. “Is it time? Do we have to go now? Oh, there’s still work to be done here, will Husk even be able to manage without me to clean up after him? _Oh no,_ there are more bottles on the counter,” She put two miserable hands to her face and frowned at the growing mess on the bar counter.

Husk in return flipped her the bird, took another fat swig and grabbed a cloth to swing over his shoulder. “I’ve been cleaning since before you figured out how to change your own nappies, you fruitcake,” He snapped, putting his arm around the bottles before he shoved them all into the bin that he brought beneath them.

“And I’ve been changing nappies better than you’ve been cleaning you grouch!” She responded in a sing-songy voice, coming out to bop him on the nose with her duster. Spinning back around to face Alastor she wrung her hands nervously after setting down her cleaning supplies, staring intently at the hands of the clock. “Oooooh should I have baked cookies for her? Everyone likes cookies, especially when it’s been handmade for you, that should help sweeten the deal right? Haha, get it, _sweeten_ the–“

“Nina,” Alastor’s voice cut crisply through her internal monologue that was raging away while she bounced on the spot. “Charlie is bound to take a liking to you immediately, as long as you don’t get all strung out over nothing, yes? No need for cookies or, whatever else you have already thought up in that little conk* of yours, alright? I need you to focus,” He deliberately drew out the papers again, shaking them a little in front of her face. “You might be there under the guise of a cleaning lady, but you have a more important job at hand remember? For me, not Charlie, if you’re confused over who it is you need to impress,” A pointed eyebrow was raised, and it was enough to silence the buzzing of the petite lady before him, a nod being the silent response he got from her.

“Lovely – in that case, we’ll leave Husker over here to his… wallowing, or whatever it is he’s drinking to this time, shall we?” He grinned, offering her his elbow which she happily took, despite the authoritative air he commanded only minutes earlier.

#

The place he had chosen for them to meet was just as full of life as the few other places he had taken her; buskers were about, and art vendors were peddling their paintings and sculptures where they had set up shop. Charlie found herself transfixed by a wooden marionette that a performer was gracefully twirling around from behind a veil, making it look as if the doll had a life of its own. It was dancing to the tune of a song she had heard Alastor put on the radio a couple weeks ago, the familiar tune hummed under her breath as she watched from amidst the slowly growing crowd of children and couples walking past.

The vendor produced another doll, a male to accompany the female, and the two twirled around each other with the grace of two beings that weren’t tethered to strings, until the song came to a close, and the dolls limply fell as the entertainer revealed the strings at play the whole time to resounding applause.

“My, they never run out of ways to exhibit the skills of Mr. Eddie Cantor, do they?” Hummed a voice beside her, nearly making her jump out of her skin if she wasn’t growing so used to his sneaking up beside her all silent like that. 

“You really ought to greet a girl before you try and rattle her bones like that Al’,” She teased, tearing her eyes away to look up at him with a smirk. There was something amiss about him though, and it was when she settled on the redhead beaming at her from where she was beside Alastor that she put her finger on it.

“Um,” She said, the certainty of her gait drooping a little as she tried to understand this fabrication of this smiling girl just… standing there. “Hello?”

“Hello!” She enthusiastically responded, detaching from Alastor to offer an eager hand to shake. “I’m Nina, but everyone calls me Niffty, because hehe, I’m nifty! Oh I’ve been so excited to meet you, I’ve heard _sooo_ much about you,”

Charlie took her hand, shaking it slowly as she looked to Alastor for answers. He met her questioning gaze with a low chuckle, taking his time to draw out some papers that could mean less to her as Niffty beamed up at her. “This lil’ darling over here is a dear old friend of mine. I couldn’t help but barber* about your grand plan, and despite her not really being the sort to buy into that sort of jazz,”

“No sir-ee,” She confirmed.

“She has been looking for some work, and I can assure you from what I caught of the outside of your _fine_ establishment, she can definitely help put the _shine_ in that establishment,”

“Indeedy!” She confirmed once more with a nod. “I’ve never met anyone more skilled with a rag, a mop, a broom or a cloth than I!”

“And besides, she’s a darling and more help around the house will definitely help the gears turn in the way of legitimacy, don’t you agree?”

Charlie silently considered this as she released Niffty’s grip. There were an awful lot of cobwebs in places far too high for her to reach, and she did need to spruce the place up a bit if she wanted it to look even mildly hospitable. There was no reforming to be done if the house itself looked like it was due for its own reformation. “Well, alright,” She finally sighed. “Though– I don’t want you to be like, a _maid,_ I want it to be clear that you’d be free to come and go as you please, and the rate we settle on will be appropriate for whatever work you choose to do,”

As if on cue, Alastor unfurled the papers he was holding, handing them to Charlie. “I thought those might be terms you might want, ah, that predictable charitable spark of yours is utterly instatiable isn’t it?” He didn’t offer her a pen, as she took the sheets from him, skimming them over. “I’ve drawn up a contract that is generous to the both of you, and the only real stipulation is that Niffty report back to me about her work so I can make sure she isn’t scabbing you; though I doubt that possible, as she hasn’t a bad bone in her body this one,”

Charlie flushed at that thought, but took the papers nonetheless, folding them up to tuck away into her purse. “Thank you– I’ll have a look at them and let you know if there’s anything to add,”

“But of course,” He affirmed, the easy-going smile not once leaving his face. “Once you’ve settled on a decision, you can give me a ring at the number I’ve left on that there contract for you,”

Niffty took this as cue to leave, skipping a little off to the side. “And once you do that I’ll be informed if you’ll let me get rid of all those _nasty_ dust mites that have surely taken up residence in that old creaky manor of yours! Until then, it was nice meeting you Charlie!”

“Well, she’s awfully energetic,” She couldn’t help but point out with something of a fond look on her face. That sort of energy had been absent from her life since… since far too long ago, that was for sure. “Anyway, who knew you were keeping this little secret from me this whole time?”

The sweep she made towards the gardens was met with a bark of laughter, as he hooked his arm with hers. “Trust me doll, it was never my intention. Now that you’ve brought it up though, I’ll be happy to show you why this is a secret better left to be found,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright!! so!! things are finally starting to get interesting, at least in Alastor's world – Charlie's demonic visions will grow from here on out, it's just that there hasn't been much of a catalyst just... yet. 
> 
> there will definitely be more of that in time to come though, and I predict in time to come means, the next couple of chapters! oh i have big plans, *rubs hands* big plans indeed.
> 
> 20s slang:  
> Conk - Head  
> Barber - Talk


	6. Like A Fever Without Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off – I feel like this upload has come later than ordinary, buuuut given that I'm in Australia, I believe that this is just about waking time or evening for a lot of you; though the point of my saying this is it might be this way next week too. I have a ton of work to do, a lot of it involving reading through legal documents and cases for uni and well. It's time consuming as you might imagine.
> 
> secondly! this is the longest chapter I have written, but possibly the best content wise. I have reread it just to be sure, but my mind has been so muddled with the three essays I've had to do in conjunction with this there might still be mistakes in the way of typos or random run off sentences. feel free to point them out as always, i will get right onto making the necessary adjustments.
> 
> thirdly! this chapter is in a non-linear fashion, though hopefully that proves obvious
> 
> alrighty! onto the fun

Niffty was fairly sure she hadn’t seen a dust pile her size since she had been plucked out of the orphanage at a young age, and she was definitely sure she had never seen it in a residence of two seemingly proper women. “Sorry about, um,” Charlie beside her didn’t even finish her sentence, instead just offering a lame gesture of her hand. Yeah, a sorry was in order alright.

“You two _are_ women, aren’t you?” She asked a little shrilly, clutching her duster a little tighter to her chest as if it was a crucifix. Hell, she’d even cleaned up for Alastor, and the mess he had made of her _last_ foster family’s home was a challenge, but this was… just…

“I mean, when was the last time someone _lived_ here? And why are all the curtains the same color as mud? Do you _want_ this place to look filthy? I just don’t get it,” She continued, muttering under her breath as she picked apart the couch, pushed away drapes, gave a theatrical cough when more dust exploded in her face and a moth _– a moth! –_ fluttered out from behind some curtains and wrung her hands on her apron.

“Now listen here–,” The angry looking one started, a raised finger coming up as if she was going to jab her eyes out but Niffty simply bristled past her, gasping a little at the back of her dress.

“And you’re tracking dirt in here! It’s everywhere! Do you ladies know a single thing at all about _behaving_ like a lady? You can’t even get the wearing dresses part right!”

It was why when a week later, seeing mud being dragged in by _another_ lady made her as pale as a sheet, especially since she had just shined and waxed the floorboards that day, and Alastor had already said he was planning on dropping by the day after.

“Wh– ho– who–?!” She stuttered, the relaxation from having made the place look shiny and new grinding to an unceremonious halt.

Heaved between Vaggie and Charlie was a blonde who’s hair looked an absolute rat nest, twigs and leaves embedded through her locks which were obscuring her face. That and she was limply being _dragged_ through the main hallway, her ruined garments coming painfully close to the running rug that Niffty had managed to clean up and put through the central corridor. “No!” She shrilly commanded, throwing her small body in front of the three of them with her arms stretched out. “I just cleaned! _Just!_ ”

“An’ I just had my damn ears blown out, so can it would’ja?” The rag doll drawled in this unusually deep voice, the intoxication in her voice more apparent than the mud that was giving Niffty these godawful heart palpitations.

“I’m sorry Niffty I promise I’ll stay up all night scrubbing with you if I have to,” Charlie apologetically said in this quiet little voice that was unfamiliar to the redhead. She looked a bit of a wreck herself actually, now that she was paying attention. Her hair was nowhere near as neat as it was when she had first left, and her skin had taken a sicklier sheen to it. “I just really need to get him to bed, please?”

There wasn’t much of a choice for Niffty there, especially since Charlie was always so nice even if she was little messy with her things, and even if she was raised like royalty (Niffty knew from the box of golden jewelry and the stashed away photographs of her _very_ handsome father in garb that no one she knew could afford), so she huffed a sigh of defeat and stepped aside.

“Don’t think I’m not holding you to that promise,” She mumbled through her pout, resigning herself back to her makeshift storeroom to get the mop bucket out for the second time that day.

#

Charlie’s meetings with Alastor had become something of a weekly occurrence – he was the only friendly face around that was enough of a local in the city to show her around, and well, she still didn’t quite know why he stuck around with her but she was fairly sure she was a source of great entertainment to him. Her anecdotes, the little nibblets of information she revealed to him, he ate them up with delight, and laughed at the jokes she told with such glee. He on the other hand, divulged her in all the little parts of New Orleans that were underappreciated, small local businesses, bigger ones too, introducing her to his friends and people whom he had met in his line of work alike.

There was nothing more to it than that, just a simple matter of someone who wasn’t going to shut her out for once and act like she was just a passing circus act. It was a welcome change, and she found herself looking forward to all the little meetups he set, wondering what would be in store for them that week, even if Vaggie sat at the couch with a displeased look every time Charlie had that extra skip in her step on those days.

When he’d rung for the first time, with plans for an impromptu dinner by the bayou and a request to supplement whatever food she desired and he’d make up for the rest of it, she couldn’t help the fluttering of her heart at the thought. The last time she had anything resembling a picnic it still involved parasols and scones and, ugh, _chamomile_ , and this was unlikely to resemble such a prim and proper affair.

Sadly, she wasn’t much of a chef, and a thermos of orange juice was all she could whip up before she got the bright idea of torturing her poor mother over the phone and making her guide her through the art of apple pie. It took three consecutive phone calls and a laborious three hours following it, but the basket in hand felt triumphant when she spotted Alastor already sat on a spread-out picnic blanket in such a languid manner he looked pulled right out of a newspaper ad.

“Good evening,” She hummed, clasping the basket between two hands as she approached him with a sweet smile.

She caught his attention alright, his lazy glancing over the small lulls in the water lighting up as he noticed her, the smell of warm cinnamon reaching his nose. “Hello,” He said politely, scooting aside for her. “What have you there?”

“I have,” She nestled down, plucking the thermos right out of the red trimmed cloth she had thrown over it. “Some orange juice, freshly squeezed, and some apple pie,” The proud little beam she did for him had him chuckling a little under his breath, though he couldn’t conceal the small sideways glance he did elsewhere.

“Oh no are you allergic to apples? Or cinnamon? Oh no maybe it’s oranges,” She couldn’t help but mumble, looking down in worry. In all her excitement she had somehow successfully forgotten to ask what his preferences even were.

“Oh, none of those things at all,” He waved a hand as if it could dispel her worries that were hanging in the air. “I’m just not the biggest fan of sweets, though I’m not picky, and I’m sure a sweet like yourself would be sure to change my mind on that,” He said, reaching out to pinch one of her cheeks as if she were some delightful little toddler.

She pulled a face which only seemed to rouse his amusement once more before he turned to fiddle with his own goodies. “I have some crawfish étouffée, ever heard of it?” He asked over his shoulder as if he already knew that she’d be shaking her head. “Well, there’s bread and potatoes that go with it, but I hope you weren’t looking to look the cat’s meow* while stuffing your face with it,” He didn’t quite seem done either though, producing a couple packs of cards, and a covered board game of sorts.

“And, some entertainment! Admittedly I dug these out of my attic the other day in my annual clean and I figured we might as well kill two birds with one stone! Figure out what to make of these ol’ doodads and minimize the space they take up in my house!”

She picked at one of the older cards sets with intrigue, looking at the intricate pattern printed onto them. “I guess we can’t just stare at the bayou forever,” She shrugged, a keen glint in her eye.

+

Admittedly, in her life, there were probably only a couple instances she could remember being that stuffed. The first was when Molly, Anthony’s twin sister treated her to the best lasagna she could’ve ever tasted and a helping of cannolis after that that the three of them fooled around with, squirting cream and mascarpone into each other’s eyes like children. The second, was when Vaggie had snuck her into the ‘slums’ as her father put it, letting her sit by as she watched her father – a local food kiosk vendor – whip up some enchiladas for the girls that Charlie absolutely gouged herself on. It was a wonder where all that food ended up in her rather small frame.

This, she counted as the third time, putting away a final bite of the apple pie that Alastor only managed to finish half a slice of with a content smile settling in. They had played a couple rounds of Go Fish, some Blackjack that Charlie had surprisingly beat him at thanks to her father having taught her from a young age, and they were just rounding it off with some poker.

“My, I have to say I’ve certainly never seen a doll cheese it* like that with a meal,” He laughed, pulling out a handkerchief to dab at the corners of her mouth. The sudden contact made the crisp air feel a little heavier and warmer, but she paid it no mind as she turned her attention to the board, intent on ignoring the slow heat building behind her ears.

“There’s more tricks up my sleeve you’ve yet to find out about,” She casually said, before reaching for it, pulling it out of the sleeve. She stopped halfway though, a burning sensation stinging her in the middle of her chest, causing her to drop it only a fraction of the way out.

“Are you alright dear?” Alastor asked as she clutched at her chest, waiting for the pain to recede which left her breathing shallowly until it had dulled.

“Yeah, sorry, that was weird,” She mumbled, fishing around for her gloves as if that would somehow make a difference. It seemed she was right though, the pain that returned only half as pronounced as it was before, allowing her to feign normalcy as she revealed the Ouija board now sitting on the picnic mat.

“Huh,” Alastor said as if that little incident hadn’t just happened – or, as if his interest was taken with this board now between them. “Haven’t seen this in yonks,”

“What was it doing in your house?” She asked, raising a slightly disdainful brow. For a girl literally haunted by shadow demons, she preferred not to test the boundaries of the spirit world, real or not. And her experience? It was realer than most people could believe.

“Why don’t we ask it?” He asked with one of those sly, cunning grins she only caught him with every once in a while. Not entirely keen on it, the kitten soft touch he gave her hand that guided her towards the planchette was persuasive enough that she went with it anyway. “Besides, the bayou is the _perfect_ place to be full of souls taking the big sleep, huh?”

He was teasing her now, and part of her wondered if this was all some grand ploy to play her as the fool again, given the way he was watching her like he had just gotten the biggest, fattest candy apple at the fair.

Without warning, the planchette sharply jerked, even seemingly taking Alastor by surprised as it slowly at first, and then more rapidly started to spell:

‘YOU’

“That could be either of us,” Alastor said with just a hint of boredom and annoyance creeping into his voice. Clearly he wasn’t expecting this to happen.

‘DON’T’

“Are they always this vague? I remember them being commercialized to be _much_ more riveting not too long ag–“

“Hush!” She shushed him, that burning slowly growing in her chest.

‘BELONG’

“Oh, a grave warning from the pits of hell! How exciting! Perhaps they might fling us into the swamp next?” He snickered, still watching the board in anticipation. “I sure hope this isn’t just your idea of getting into my head Charlie dear, I certainly don’t think this will convince me of these dark monsters you talk about,”

‘HERE’

“It’s not me,” She said with a bit of a choked voice, wincing as her hands started trembling, though when she tested the motion of pulling away it seemed her hand was _glued_ to it.

‘CHA–‘

Her hands now were trembling, and Alastor had grown quiet for a change, though he made no move to help her. She looked at him when she managed a couple more shaky breaths, and once more, it seemed there was this serpent like movement from behind him, the trees morphing their shadow with his.

‘–LOT–’

It twisted into this ghastly sight, mangled limbs, sharp in all its corner, before a head emerged, only revealing an inky horrible grin, that seemed to be dripping goop.

“Charlie? Are you still with me?” She distantly heard Alastor call, but she felt trapped now, in her cold, sweaty skin, her heart beating in her chest like a marching band.

‘–TE’

The demon smacked a clawed hand her way, pulling a strangled shriek out of her throat as it grabbed onto her throat, pricking at her skin like a thousand needles. She reacted instantly, yanking her hand back as she scampered away until all of it subsided.

“My my,” She finally heard Alastor say after what felt like a Century of her panting, a throbbing pain pounding in her ears. “I’ve…. Certainly, never seen something like… this before,”

When she forced her eyes open again, the board was crushed down the middle where the planchette was, a black streak going through it like it had been burnt.

Charlie felt like she would vomit. Two minutes later, she had rolled over to the edge of the grass and did exactly that.

+

“I’m sorry,” She mumbled thickly into her hands for what felt like the umpteenth time since they had gathered their things and left. “Ugh tonight was... horrible, and I definitely understand if you never wish to see me again,”

“Nonsense!” Alastor laughed, the arm that he had around her shoulder to balance her shook with one of his radio laughs. “If anything, that intriguing little incident only makes me want to see more of you! Never before have I heard of one of those silly little cardboard alphabets actually doing anything exciting, at all!”

They stayed quiet the rest of the way back to her place, up until she made sight of her doorstep, where she insisted they stay several meters away from lest Vaggie come out and give him an earful. “It’ll be better next time,” In her heart of hearts, she didn’t really believe that. This was the second time with him that this had happened, and only worse than it had been before. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend why even touching the board caused such a visceral reaction within her, and that was a thought she wanted to be left alone with for the night.

They parted, Alastor patting her on the head and promising her that he was not in any way off put and promising to call to make sure she hadn’t choked on her vomit in her sleep. Such a gentleman.

It was when she was nearly at her steps that she noticed a blonde head in her bushes, and long gangly limbs that nearly made her scream. Why did this just keep _happening_ to her? Was it Friday the 13th and she just failed to realize it on her calendar?

Hesitantly, she took very slow, ginger steps towards the mass that had obscured itself in the bushes, and it was when a snore reached her ears that she heaved a sigh of relief. Sort of. There was still someone passed out in her bushes to deal with.

“Um…” She reached for a twig, carefully approaching the girl to poke her in the shoulder. “Hello? Hellllooooo?”

“W-wuh?” The voice made out, thick and muffled with leaves. It twitched a little, but didn’t make much of an effort to move, so it was up to Charlie to get on her knees and pull this skyscraper of a being out and roll them over.

Pale blue eyes blinked at her blearily as she did so, a lazy smile spreading on the blonde that Charlie was staring down at, mouth agape.

“Heh,” Anthony snorted, a lazy hand coming up to push roughly at Charlie’s jaw, in some sloppy attempt to close it. Up close, he reeked of alcohol, and Charlie could see where his wig was starting to come loose. “Close…. ya’ mouth toots, you’ll let… flies in,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeehaw, as me mama always says, don't mess with the ouija board. now, why on earth would charlie have such a visceral reaction to that board? who knows? is she a demon? or is it just not as clearcut as that?
> 
> why is al such a weirdo? why don't they ever just go to a diner? why is angel lying in charlie's bushes? where is vaggie?
> 
> all in due time my dear readers
> 
> (except the diner. i don't think that's quite al's style.)


	7. With Some Fire In Your Belly / You'll Move A Little Faster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this begins with some pretext to the whole angel debacco at the end of the last chapter but not all of it – with that subplot i'll build to the whole thing asssss there is more than meets the eye to that!
> 
> but, this also introduces the first Husk POV; apologies if it's a little rough, I'm still working my way around it. otherwise most of this chapter is back to Alastor's POV, and boy howdy is he a fun one to write!
> 
> as always, any errors and the like, do let me know; i'm juggling more work than I would like to right now but this fic is a welcome distraction from it, though that doesn't guarantee i'm not always distracted while i write too

“You might wanna slow down there with the bourbon doll face, that’s the third time now I’ve had to clean your lipstick off the glass,” Husk observed, toweling out the last bits of dampness in the final stack of glasses he had to put back out. The blonde beauty wasn’t one he had seen before, and it definitely wasn’t that little plaything Alastor was spending all his energy on nowadays. She was tall, with a sharp jaw and mismatched eyes and legs that he would bet his money on being strong enough to snap his neck.

Was he paying her a little more attention than most customers? Maybe. But she was giving him good business, to be fair, and he doubted this blondie was gonna get much business squeezing a whiskey prescription out of a quack. 

“I wouldn’t be ordering it all if I wasn’t confident of holding my own,” She grinned at him, a thick New Yorker accent gracing his ears. He knew Charlie was from around there too, but he wouldn’t guess the two knew each other. “’Sides, I don’t think that’s a complaint is it? Do you want me to leave?” She batted her long lashes at him and pursed her lips coyly, and Husk grunted as he turned away, blood running hot. It was hard to tell if that was a byproduct of her effect, anyway, considering how much he’d already guzzled before his shift started.

“Long as you’re paying, I don’t give a shit,” He finally responded gruffly, filling a couple of pints for two newcomers at the bar.

She hung around a lot longer than he thought she would. At first, he thought maybe it was for him. But then she was onto her sixth drink and looking red in the cheeks with a forlorn look towards nothing in particular, and it became a situation he knew he wanted to steer clear of.

Yet, when everyone had moved away from the bar, aside from a couple stragglers that couldn’t care for more service, he found himself wondering back over to her, sliding her a glass of water.

“I think it’s time to hit the road, don’t you think?” He cocked a brow, nodding towards the glass of clear water he’d slid towards her.

“I think it’s time you just say you think I’m pretty an’ be done wih’ it,” She mumbled thickly, one of those wicked grins resurfacing. Yeesh, all drunk women were either painfully flirtatious or looking to chuck something at his head.

“You’re pretty. Happy? Now drink up and scat,” The towel he was using to mop up around her side of the counter was slung over his shoulder.

“Ain’t got nowhere to go,” She shrugged, keeping eye contact with him as she bit and nibbled at the straw in her Whiskey Sour. Fuckin’ tease. “And I’m comfortable right here handsome,” Her slender fingers reached for his, tickled the top of his hand and sent a shiver down his spine that he had to stomp out lest it become noticeable.

“You’re not from ‘round here,” He stated, narrowing his thick brows at her. “So lemme tell you how it works. You’re new, probably rich or whatever, and you’ll get jumped for actin’ like that. Get home before it gets too late to turn back,” He practically snapped, pulling his hand away from her.

“Fine,” She curtly sat back, her lips pulled back like a stray cat all of a sudden, so much so he thought she might hiss and scratch at him. “Point me in the right direction an’ I’ll get outta ya’ hair,” There was a baritone to her voice now, one that if he listened more before he might’ve caught onto. “But get one thing straight wise guy, I can hold my own more than some crummy bartender like you could believe,”

“That how you looking for help? Because it ain’t gonna stick,” He growled.

“Fine! Sheesh, I’m just workin’ up the liquid courage to find an old pal, alright?” She huffed, crossing her arms and tossing out her wild locks. “She’s bit skinny, shorter than me, blonde, goes by Charlie?”

He stopped what he was doing, staring point blank at her with an unreadable expression. A mystery chick shows up, acting sly and drunk, and she, like everyone else in his pitiful circle of associates was also a sucked into of the vortex of Charlie Magne.

“You got business with her loony bin?” He chuckled, cracking a cruel smirk.

“What?” She frowned, the confidence morphing into confusion. “No, she’s an old friend. I already said it, clean out ya ears sometime,” She snapped. “Now you helpin’ me or what?”

#

Alastor wasn’t a smoker, but after dropping Charlie off at home and hearing just faintly what he thought was her talking to a _shrub_ outside her residence, he needed one. This was a habit he avoided simply for preserving the integrity of his voice, but there was no harm in lighting a stick of tobacco to take his mind off of… things.

Like, the fact that he was fairly certain he had seen the brief glow of red and yellow in Miss Magne’s eyes when she had somehow caused an _implosion_ in that dusty Ouija board of his. Truth be told, he had found it, had a laugh and thought it would be a true testament to how strongly she would stick to this little silly, game of hers.

Instead what he got at first was just as ridiculous as he anticipated, and then all of a sudden, the board was blackened, she looked like she might require an _exorcism_ , and then she was upchucking into the bayou. Oh, those poor ‘gators.

It should have frightened any sane person, at least into thinking they were losing their _own_ mind, but that night what Alastor had felt was a rush of pure… _adrenaline._ He partly wondered how far these limits went, and he grinned around the stream of smoke he puffed out. As the ember burned and he had to keep discarding ashes off the balcony, there was the doubt that what he saw was real. Up until now he hadn’t believed a single word she had said, and he wasn’t sure this was when he wanted to start.

The following morning had him turning over the events of the night before in his mind, even at work where he picked through a Waldorf salad he’d half-heartedly acquired from a nearby deli. The minute he’d punched out, he’d popped a dime in a telephone booth, waited as the line rung and thankfully reached just who he was looking for.

“Thank you for calling the…” There was a pause, a muffle over the receiver and some voices behind the hand of whoever had done so. “Happy hotel!... (Is this a hotel?) … Um, Nina speaking!”

“Niffty darling it’s me,” Alastor finally spoke to break up the ruse, the amused tone of his voice indicating he’d let that little kerfuffle run on as long as he had. “Let Charlie know I’m dropping in later today. No need for any formalities she will undoubtedly have in mind, just have her ready for it,”

“Jeez, you could’ve said when you first called,” She grumbled, the way she rubbed at her forehead practically audible from the other end of the line. “Are you sure you wanna do today? Something came up and–“

“Something’s always bound to come up, and I have other things to attend to. _Yes,_ I want to do today, as I had said weeks ago,” This was a lie. There was a vague idea that he would soon come over after Niffty’s employment, but it was never truly settled. “Now, I’d rather not have my face glued to this ameche* a second longer, tata!”

The beginning of a protest had just begun on her end when he had put the phone back down, heading out with newfound glee in his step.

+

Kind enough to give her a couple hours to stop fretting which he knew she would still possibly be doing, he straightened up at the door which he had seen from afar for weeks now, rapping his knuckles firmly against the oakwood. “He–“ Charlie opened the door, suspecting nothing else it seemed, as her doe eyes enlarged comically as he got the first syllable of his greeting in, slamming it suddenly in his face.

“–llo!” He finished, when she opened the door again, fussing with her hair. She opened her mouth to respond, a kind wisp of a smile floating across those lovely flushed lips of hers that had been so clearly gnawed on in the few seconds that had just passed, before footsteps behind her caused her to abruptly shut the door again.

There was some bickering from within, another voice he didn’t quite recognize, before the door was pulled open again, this time with an apologetic Charlie at it. “May I speak now?” He mused, blinking quite patiently at her as she rubbed her arm.

“Sorry, yes of course!” She finally spoke, regarding him in a way that wasn’t just under her lashes and strands of hair. “I mean– come in, you’ve been on that porch long enough now,”

He waited for her to step aside and took two steps in, toeing the enemy line as he noticed the girl, he’d met a few weeks earlier, this time without the pathetic little look of abandonment and suitcases around her. Niffty waved at him eagerly, to which he returned it and, in the corner, he spotted a lanky fellow with tousled blonde hair, ridiculously short pink shorts on and a tank thrown haphazardly onto his skinny frame. Well, that was certainly a new addition.

“Pardon the intrusion, I hadn’t realized the numbers that had grown seemingly overnight here!” He laughed merrily, internally reveling in the souring expression of their Latino accompaniment. “Are you sure you need my help at all because you seem to be doing fine enough as it is,” He mentioned to Charlie over his shoulder in a faux whisper, taking in yet another victory, this time in the form of her pearly whites beaming at him and her eyes creasing with her grin.

“Oh it’s not what you think,” She assured him, the nervousness from before dissipating in her tone. “This is Vaggie, she’s a good friend of mine from back home,” She gestured to the girl staring holes into his head. “She’s come to help out, I really needed it,” There was that meekness again that made him want to reach out and squeeze her cheeks and shake her around. Hard to believe just last night she looked like a being from a far more dangerous realm.

“This is it; this is all the help you have?” He bluntly asked, walking towards Vaggie with an inspecting look as if she were an ornament on display. “I’m not sure if a kitten with her tail stamped on is the best way to lure people into your already rather… unalluring service,” 

Before either of them could say another word, he cut that short, especially since it looked like that _Vaggie_ girl was going to try and take an eye out with her tiny limbs and puny fingers. “And what about _you_ my effeminate fellow? What can _you_ do?” He mused, drifting over to where Angel was. “Are you some oracle? A gypsy come to read _tea leaves_ for the inhabitants?” He couldn’t help but snicker as he folded his hands behind his back. Oh, to think that she really thought he could help such a ludicrous plot.

“Nah,” Shrugged the blonde, and to Alastor’s surprised he flashed him a coquettish smirk as he made for the iced tea beside him, taking a long-exaggerated suck of the straw. “But I _could_ suck ya’ dick,”

The crudeness of his language had Alastor temporarily blank out in his mind, so unused to hearing such foul words tumble casually out of anyone’s mouth. “HA!” Was all he could muster, stiffly straightening back out as he kept his grin in place. “No,” He followed up, doing a one-eighty in his step to walk the other way.

“Your loss!” Called the boob* behind him before he approached Niffty, putting one arm around her shoulder as she stood proud and tall.

“At least I have you to rely on here Niffty, whatever would this place be without you?”

“Oh dirty, like so very dirty, you wouldn’t believe how many spiderwebs and dust mites I got rid of in the past week,” She shook her head, her smile fading into a grimace. “And then he came in here last night tracking mud everywhere! And vomiting! It was horrible!” An accusatory pointed finger came up towards the lanky blonde who shrugged as if that was somehow the most normal thing to be accused of.

“I didn’t know he was dropping in, to be fair,” Charlie finally piped up, crossing her arms. “This is An…gel,” There was some silent communication that passed between the pair as they looked at one another. “He’s another friend of mine from home. We grew up together, our families were very close,” She trailed off, looking back to her feet.

“Well, friends are always the best place to start, I suppose. Who knows the inner demons of someone besides those closest to you!” He guffawed, coming over and slapping a hand to Charlies shoulder.

“I’m sorry but _what_ are you doing here?” Vaggie finally piped up, annoyance boiling over in her as she clenched her hands. “You come in here, uninvited, unannounced, except for some _two hour notice_ , and just insult everything? What the hell do you want!”

“I think I’ve been invited and announced!” He coolly responded, keeping his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Did Charlie here not tell you how I was the only one who reached out to ask about this… grand plan of hers? How I offered my help when she had asked for it?”

By the silent look the two shared, the answer seemed a very simple no. “Well that’s too bad! Now, if you’re not busy handling the rabble,” He turned to face Charlie, waiting until she met his gaze. “Perhaps you could show me some of these plans you had in mind and I can really get a sense of what’s happening in this circus, hm?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plucking some lines out of the show itself is always good fun, but thus marks Alastor's official induction into the Happy Hotel! it's not quite a hotel in the rehabilitative sense as shown in hazbin; It's hard to get this idea fully across because I haven't /quite/ come to this part of the fic but it's more so I suppose, one big voodoo hospital – hospital is just kind of a horrible word in Charlie's eyes for fair reason
> 
> that being said, with the current situation I hope all of you are staying home and staying safe. I know it's a troubling time both mentally and physically – I've barely been able to leave the house and I can't imagine the toll it must take on those of you in more dire domestic situations – so hopefully at least this little fic offers the least bit of reprieve. 
> 
> stay healthy everyone and see you next week with the next chapter ꒰♡ˊ͈ ु꒳ ूˋ͈꒱.⑅*♡


	8. Buy Your Way Down To The Playground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! currently this has yet to be edited, i'm just throwing it up so that you guys get something of an update, and i'm going through it picking out any errors 
> 
> in other news though sorry for the late update; i'm starting to just get bogged down by the Emotions and general just being stuck inside, and I've had a bunch more work to pick up this week. I'll hopefully keep to the regular Thursday schedule next week though.
> 
> not much of a timelapse here, though this does pretty much move things into the First Act of this fic

The office was small-ish, but befitting of Charlie, filled with her writing desk, several pictures of her family and friends, vases of flowers where there was sunlight and a modest bookshelf filled with fine works of literature. He took his time admiring the labels as Charlie busied herself with sorting her stack of papers into a more reasonable looking mess, before she gestured to the seat opposite her.

“Sorry about the mess, it was just a tad bit of a short notice,” She sheepishly said as he slid into the leather of the armchair. “And sorry about the commotion downstairs. Vaggie’s just a little,” Her hands did circled motions in the air, as if trying to grab the appropriate noun out of it. “ _Overprotective,”_

“I can certainly see that,” He affirmed with a raised brow. “One might even mistake her for your _frau*_ with how she barks at whoever dare approach you,” He laughed to himself, noticing the beet red hue that slowly warmed the apples of Charlie’s cheeks. How peculiar.

“Well, she’s all bark and no bite, not to worry. Mostly,” She furrowed her brows. “I mean don’t test her though. I fear if pushed she might bite too actually,”

He leaned forward on his elbows, dismissively waving a hand before perching his chin upon its palm. “I believe I can handle her if need be. Now– I didn’t make this trek to discuss your fiery… what is she even? _Maid?_ That’s what Niffty’s for– no, I believe you wanted me to look things over and see what I might have to offer?”

“Right,” She said, turning to her stack of papers before selectively retrieving a few out of the stack. Some looked to be receipts, opened letters, s _crapped_ letters, bills, pretty much anything that might find itself on parchment had found itself to that desk. Maybe that was the next thing he would have a word with Niffty about. “I forewarn you of the mess, but this is as final as it is for now,”

He took the little folder from her, leaning back to leaf through it, pushing his glasses up a bit on the bridge of his nose to gain some clarity as to what it was, he was looking at. The first most visible thing was the bright rainbow she had drawn over the top, a small pang of endearment being felt for the naïve doll as he continued to scan through the page. Random bits were underlined in different ink colors (a sum total of three, being what was readily available), but it was the next couple pages on demonic manifestation that really piqued his interest.

‘ _Each person has a spirit – and each contamination to their soul creates what seems to be a change to the appearance of their soul. Most interestingly, there is still some retainment of humanoid aspects, such as wolf-like shadows standing on hind legs, seemingly opposable thumbs in the suggestion of movement in their hands. No one appears aware of their shadow, but each one is unique._

_Furthermore, from the few personal encounters I’ve had, each shadow is linked to some form of trauma suffered by the individual through their life._

_This rehabilitation service is meant to reconcile them with that trauma; not a means of demonic exorcism or anything else. Just simply allowing them a space to air the toxicity that corrupts their soul. A safe space, for them to see themselves as more than monsters, and venture on after encountering the Happy Hotel with a broader approach to life, hopefully inspired to make a change for the better.’_

There were two instances now that he could recall wherein her eyes had darted somewhere behind him, blanching an unpleasant color and reacting horribly to it. Was this a byproduct of this ‘shadow’ she wrote about? He pondered what it was that she could’ve seen in him, considering he failed to recall any trauma that had so twisted him, paging through the rest of the manual, involving practices to help different sorts of individuals, names of psychiatric professionals in her father’s circle that might offer expertise, even newer sorts of therapy that lay outside the realm of electric shock.

“I have to admit, this isn’t quite like anything I’ve seen before,” He concluded, leafing back to the page with her rainbow, sparkles and what appeared to be some sort of dog. She was lucky in his opinion, that outside of her questionable company he was the first to see this. He at least knew how to entertain her ideas long enough to keep her hope up. Though he supposed his tactic for bringing it all down in ruins in the long run wasn’t all the more merciful.

“…And?” She prodded, hands clutched together as she watched him, waiting for what else he had to say. Ah, of course, it was his opinion that she valued.

“Well, I might think that the biggest roadblock in this is the angle you’re taking about all this witchery!” He pointed out simply, pushing the papers back to her. “Though that does leave a hole in this operation for how it is you pick out these individuals. I don’t believe you singling them out is going to work too well in your favor Charlie,”

“Well no,” She said, pressing her palms flat to the table as a small crease formed between her brows. “And I’ve thought of that myself, so I figure maybe making it open to all, as a general idea would be more enticing. That way it doesn’t seem too much like any one individual is being told they’re a skid rogue* to their face,”

“And how exactly do you plan to get anyone into this place?” He gave it a casual look around. “No one’s going to just voluntarily throw themselves into a looney bin to be made a crack at around town for being a weak sister*,”

“This isn’t a looney bin,” Her lower lip stuck out slightly in the frown she was giving him, all the buttons he was pushing clear as day to him.

“No, but it sure will sound that way. Sweetheart, think of it this way, if you start offering ‘rehabilitation’ what’s it going to sound like? It’ll be like you’re offering a mending service on broken dolls, and no one enjoys stamping on their dignity to outrightly admit that they need to be fixed,”

She was starting to get frustrated, though she was controlling it well enough, pursing her lips and lacing her fingers together on the table in front of her. “That’s not the message that’s being put forth. Clients are welcome to come and go as they please, it’s our job here to make sure they come rather than go, and to do so it has to be a space that respects that they were _always_ whole,”

“I understand,” He still wore his casual smile, which if anything seemed to be touching more of a nerve for her as he held this discussion. “But what you have recited in your head won’t translate as well in real life,” Pulling his own arms back to lean back in his seat, he smirked. “Besides, who’s to say you don’t have your own demons following _you_? What makes _you_ so reliable Charlie?”

That struck a chord with her. Clearly, that was the one question she hadn’t anticipated. He patiently smiled at her while her eyes scanned his face, as if he’d give it up and call it a bluff and tell her what marvelous work she had done. He glanced to one of the portraits lining the shelves. A younger Charlie, long hair down to her waist and braided behind her back, flanked by a taller blonde woman with piercing eyes and a man with an unnerving smile. Maybe, it was more so that he hit too close to home for her that caused her unhappiness.

“Nothing,” She said simply enough, and he was surprised to find her still composed, even the small hint of a smile gracing her lips. “But if I’ve put myself where I am, I can be the first to show that someone out there is willing to try. I did this to be better, to get away from the life of privilege I’ve had,” The sins she had left behind? “And… to grow, and help people, be _better_ so others can be too,”

He watched her carefully, the satisfaction seeping into her features. It wasn’t even ingenuine in a preachy way that might make him feel the beginnings of disgust well up in his throat. She whole-heartedly believed in herself. “Hm,” Was all he could hum in response.

“So… aside from your nitpicking, is there anything you think might _improve_ the shambles you just looked through? That is, if you still want to help, you’re free to leave if you think it’s you know… outlandish,” She asked, picking the pages away from him to give them a onceover herself, her eyes scanning her own writing without reading.

He thought it through, turned the idea that popped into his head around like a rock being tumbled, until it was polished just how he wanted it to be. “I’ll stay, if you like, be your guinea pig for this experiment,” He suggested casually.

Another surprise to her, given the way she stopped suddenly in the tracings of her finger, snapping her head up to look at him as if she had imagined the words. “What?”

“I’ll be your first ‘resident’, or, client, or test subject to see how well the glue holds. What doesn’t work, you can improve on until it does,” He shrugged as if it was simple arithmetic.

“So… you think there’s a chance it’ll work?” She asked, her face slowly but surely lighting up. It was truly fascinating, watching the ways her face could morph so easily with her mood, such absolute _weakness._ It would make this run even smoother than it would’ve ordinarily.

“Heavens no!” He laughed, holding a hand over his vest as he did so. “Oh, there’s no saving someone from themselves! Trauma, abuse, a _bad day,_ call it what you will, the only excuse for one’s actions is one’s own intent, and I can tell you that is not born out of circumstance but out of their own insatiable desire to harm, whether they acknowledge it or not!” The vestiges of his laughter petted out, and he heaved a sigh to regain his breath. “No, I don’t believe it’ll work one bit. But some poor fools out there in the world probably will, and more so if I help you with that,”

She frowned again, displeased by what he had to say if the eyeroll he caught was any indicator. “So, you mean you’ll help me _trick_ people into coming here,”

“Is it trickery if _you_ believe in it? Surely you don’t value my opinion so highly that it supersedes your own. This is just merely what I think, have a spine enough to believe in what you want to achieve my dear,” She looked like he’d just slapped her across the face, and he sat there smugly, reveling in this little exchange of theirs.

“…And what are _you_ meant to achieve from all this?” She finally asked, looking at him with those furrowed brows and slanted eyes, like she was waiting for him to pull the carpet out from under her.

“Why, pure entertainment of course! Watching these fools amble about, trying to make themselves better people as if they aren’t corrupt to the core as it is! Every sinner is a lost cause my dear, and I will savor the moments watching them try and put themselves miserably back together!” He laughed; in such a canned way one might even imagine an accompanying audience joining in with her. The way she sunk further into her chair showed that it wasn’t quite the incentive she was looking for, so he was sure to follow up with: “That, and a new business venture. Radio is all well and good, but my life has lacked _purpose_ , or direction as you might call it. Helping you keep this charade going as long as you desire will not just satisfy my desires but yours as well, will it not?”

She bit her lip, considering this – who else would help her in such a wretched place? Such a wretched _world?_

“Alright, if we go into this as _partners._ I want to be seen as… your equal, not someone you answer to,” He made an indignant noise. “Or, a child you watch amble around helplessly. We need to be on equal footing if this will work,”

He grinned, standing up to straighten out his attire, before he stretched a slender, gloved hand her way. “So, it’s a deal then?”

+

They’d talked more about his lodgings, splitting it fairly between his work and when he could spare moments for Charlie’s time. After some discussion too, he managed to secure his ability to disappear when he liked as well – after all, what better way to emulate the comings and goings of _real_ troubled souls.

Besides – the additional bonus was Niffty’s presence. Whenever he wasn’t around, Niffty could report back to him on Charlotte’s movements, how things moved forward without him, so he always had his hand in the candy jar when necessary. If he could, he might even strike up a deal for Husker to come on board, lord knew he needed to get out of his grim little alcove of hedonism.

Vaggie was sat cross legged and cross armed on the chesterfield couch in the recreation room, face stuck in that perpetual frown she wore while ‘Angel’ had vanished somewhere. Niffty was busy humming to herself as she hung out laundry out the back, casting a glance over her shoulder as Alastor and Charlie descended down the stairs, their eyes meeting knowingly before she resumed her work.

“So, is this wrong gee* satisfied? Has he had his fill of the place yet?” She finally asked, standing stiffly as her arms stayed glued like a pretzel.

“Well actually…” Charlie began, looking to Alastor who was now carrying a folder of documents with him.

“Oh, not at all! In fact, you’ll be catching me down the hall more often from now on!” He grinned maliciously, the gaping that he was met with ignored as he turned to Charlie, kissing her knuckles goodbye in their now customary parting.

“Now if that’s all, I’ll see you this Friday morning, yes?” He asked smoothly, lowering his voice so it seemed the words were more for her.

“Y-yes,” She affirmed with a slight stammer, clearing her throat and making an effort to shake his hand before he parted. “And you’ll bring the paperwork?”

“That I will,” He assured her, letting their eye contact prolong more than necessary before he turned. “Well that’ll be all! Adios Vagatha!” He called to Vaggie, waving a hand condescendingly before heading for the front door.

Just as he was outside, he caught the shrill beginnings of a “What on _God_ was that about?! What does he mean _down the hall?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frau - Wife  
> Skid Rogue - Someone who can't be trusted  
> Weak Sister - A push-over  
> Wrong Gee - basically a bad guy
> 
> who knows what alastor's plotting at this rate? anyways, stay tuned my dearies
> 
> also, I've set up a twitter to post about what I write (and draw) @grapeyfruits catch yall on there if you want


	9. Oh, When You Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry again for the delay!! i'm beginning to think that friday's should just be my upload day from now on – thursday's do happen to be rather jam packed with zoom lessons and friday is about the only day without any obligations 
> 
> a little later than usual as well just because today was my birthday which meant obligatory calls throughout the day to family and friends that i'm not with during this period ^^; it was kind of refreshing though i guess, getting to talk to them all again, and being sent just... the most massive brownie cake by my colleagues... that was something to behold indeed
> 
> just a heads up, in a couple weeks i will be swarmed with essays, so there is the likelihood of my taking something of a hiatus, or trying to get some work in here just so I can upload something 
> 
> anyway!! some backstory, that will get further established

“What the hell do you even want with this broad?” Husk finally asked, once he was done loading the last crate of alcohol into the back of the car, giving it a worried look like one bump in the road might spray glass and liquor all over the place. Of _course,_ despite all that Alastor was offering him here, his concern was still the alcohol. Perhaps the Prohibition wasn’t for nothing, with loathsome fools like Husk roaming the streets. “No offense, but you usually put em’ on ice before long, and if that’s your plan you’re really taking the long route here,”

“My plans with her aren’t that simple,” He simply hummed, helping Husk with fastening the ropes over the crates, more so for the burlier man’s satisfaction than anything else.

“So, what, you taken a fancy to her? Is that it? Is this some screwed up mating ritual that psychopaths engage in? It’s one thing to be using me as a front-man for your assassination business, it’s another to suddenly take interest in putting the lights out on a lamb,”

“I’m not _using_ you, ol’ chap,” He said, narrowing his eyes as he threw an arm around his shoulder, tightening his grip as he smiled menacingly up at him. “You owe me a fair few favors, if anything, you should consider yourself _lucky_ to not be on ice yourself,”

Husk furrowed his brows, made an effort to detach himself from Alastor and drifted easily towards the driver’s side of the vehicle in any effort to put some distance between them. “Yeah yeah, no need to remind me,” He growled, fumbling with the keys, “Fuckin’ asshole,” He whispered under his breath as he slid in, igniting the engine and waiting for Alastor to hop in beside him.

“Have you ever heard of the Malus Conglomerate, Husker?” Alastor finally said, closing the door behind him as they started up down the road, peering out of the window with feigned intrigue.

“Uh… yeah, weren’t they the ones who put a hit out on your ol’ man?” He hesitantly tried, the gumminess of his throat making it feel like he was talking with a glob of glue in his mouth. Just _where_ was this going? “The apple production company who got all upset your pops was infringing on their territory and business?”

“Why yes indeedy! I’m surprised a man with hair as peppery as yours has a memory as sharp as a knife!” Husk narrowed his eyes again, clutching tighter at the steering wheel as Alastor laughed beside him. “Well as grateful as I was that they had, I was equally as embittered. See, it was always _my_ kill to take. I had it planned out meticulously, and just as he was ripe for the picking, they took him right out from under my nose,” Without looking up, he already knew the bespectacled freak was doing that thing where his eyes slanted into slits, giving him that creepy snake like appearance he wore best. “But no matter. I’m not the sort to hold onto these things for longer than necessary. If not, for the fact that they dared extend their threat to my dear mother. God rest her soul, had never harmed a _fly_ in her lifetime. Dare I say it, they probably threatened me, fools they were,”

“Is this going anywhere?”

“Impatient aren’t you! Don’t you have any respect for the art of narrative? Anyhow, if they were simple mobsters, they would be dead by now,” He said with such certainty it sent a shiver up Husk’s spine. “But they weren’t. See, after all these years, I never figured out how they did it. One day, the oaf was alive. The next, he was dead, tattered without the tracks of neither animal nor man, an inconclusive autopsy, and only his severed tongue in our living room with the sigil of an apple tree emblazoned on the flesh,”

“…So, they’re fucking weirdos. Sounds like you’d get along great,” Husk said, turning the corner, Charlie’s house peeking out from the top of the hill. 

“Maybe,” Alastor conceded with the right amount of mirth just to be disturbing. “But there was more to it than just a sick desire to scare an innocent woman and teach a lesson to those who toe the line. It wasn’t just fine craftsmanship,” Husk bit his tongue, figuring that speaking out against his fascination for the art of the kill was not the best time to be snarking away. “It was almost as if there was no trace whatsoever. Nothing. Shortly after, when we had packed and taken to New Orleans, my dear Mother found herself taken with all sorts of superstitions, protective beads and amulets, ha, I even caught her in the act of trying to stitch together her own poppets for protection! They did quite put the fright in a woman who had never dallied in such nonsense before!”

“So? She became a bit loopy, I’m pretty sure seeing your husband torn apart like a sloppy joe does that to a person,” He dared suggest, though there was a catch coming up, one that put an unsettling feeling in his belly. Why hadn’t he had that one drink before hitting the road, why had he let that smiley bastard talk him out of it.

“Amongst other things,” Alastor grinned, turning his head away from the window to regard Husk coolly. “Anyway, I believe that is _quite_ enough reminiscing for now, wouldn’t want to keep our gracious host waiting, now would we?”

#

“What– What is this?” Vaggie stammered, the color draining from her face as she watched a surly looking man with salt and pepper hair wheel in crates upon crates, a truck of removalists coming not long after him with furnishings, lights, and whatever else Alastor seemed to have materialized at the snap of his fingers.

Charlie stood by, watching almost in awe as they set to work, putting things up, carrying a large glass cabinet in to fix into the empty corner of the room, complete with a marble countertop, and ignored Vaggie looking about ready to explode on the spot.

“Al?” Charlie finally helplessly asked, looking to the tall brunette who was standing with his hands behind his back, humming something under his breath as he watched the processions.

“Ah, Charlie darling! There you are! Allow me to introduce you to one of my associates,” He said, once the surly older man had dropped off another crate and rounded off to make it outside, grabbing him by the arm to yank him back. His companion gave him a menacing look and a tight jaw which did nothing at all to impact Alastor’s cheery demeanor.

“Charlie, this here fellow is Husk, an old friend of mine from… dear me, how far back was it now?” He asked Husk, folding his arms in front of him.

“Too fucking far,” Was Husk’s eloquent response, downright glaring at Alastor. Had he not been greeted as one, Charlie would’ve never guessed the two to even be acquaintances.

“Now now, no need to be rude,” Alastor continued to jovially prod, relinquishing his hold on Husk to nod towards the commotion where a makeshift bar was slowly being installed. “Anyhow, I figured that to commemorate our partnership, a warming gift was in order. Husk here has kindly agreed to loan his services to this establishment once things get up and running,”

“A _bar?!”_ Vaggie incredulously interrupted, a hand twitching at her side like she was about to rip out her hair. “Do you even know what the meaning of the word redemption _is_? It’s not to- to _encourage_ sin!”

Angel had materialized himself, looking like he’d just got done ravaging the kitchen for what little there was with no success, and Charlie couldn’t help note the slight twitch in Alastor’s expression at having noticed him. Husk too gave the blonde a look that was caught between confusion and surprise.

“What’s–– oh _goody_!” He practically squealed, pushing past the girls and the other two men (Alastor bristled at their contact and took a further step back) to gaze at the set up, looking between the boxes, hands clasped together in glee. “No– we, are _keeping_ this chica, you’re _not_ ruining this for me,” He said jabbing a finger Vaggie’s way.

His attention shifted to Alastor, undoubtedly, to pass a flirtatious thanks until he noticed Husk. Whatever retort that Vaggie was going to venomously spit out at him was put on hold as Angel’s look of excitement melted away to match the look Husk was wearing. “Do I know you from somewhere or somethin’?” He squinted, tilting his head.

Husk, strangely, gaped at him, until something must’ve clicked, an unusual flush creeping past his shirt collar. “No,” He spat. “I got work to do,”

“No, you don’t!” Vaggie hissed after him, stray strands of hair coming loose with her distress.

+

“Alastor,” Charlie breathed, lacing her fingers together as she patiently regarded him. He patiently crossed his legs, smiled at her in a rather condescending manner and lifted a simple brow in question.

“You can’t just– just show up, dump some stuff in here and change how things work,” She continued, recalling the verbal spiel she received from Vaggie that afternoon whilst all the kerfuffle was happening around them.

“So, would you like me to remove the bar, and the additionally lights? The garden supplies that came for Niffty, the–“

“No.” She cut through, though not as firmly as Vaggie would’ve liked. “Don’t get me wrong what you’ve done with the place is kind of amazing,” Her eyes did a little animated twinkle, and it caused a small twinge in Alastor’s chest to witness such girlish fascination. “But if we’re going to be partners…. I need you to tell me, before you spontaneously do things,”

“Why? I only acted with the best interest of your plan at heart,” He shrugged. “And it seemed to have worked out! Surely, this isn’t because that hovering _moth_ of yours found herself in a twist about it?”

“…No,” She said ever more hesitantly again. “Not entirely at least. It’s not that I don’t think you’ll do what you believe is right, and I’m sure it will be! It’s just that I need to know you respect me, or respect this agreement between us enough to share your plans, instead of,” She licked at her lips, clearly looking for a more tender way to say things. “Er, bulldozing through with them,”

Whatever reaction she was expecting was once again subverted, a small chuckle drawn from him. Truly, the weirdest man she’d ever met, Seth would flare up if she dared accuse him of any wrongdoing, whereas Alastor seemed to take it all in stride, even finding it all one great joke.

_Where did that comparison even come from?_

“Fair enough,” He finally said, moving to stand. “Was there anything else you needed?”

Now that he was here – as in _here_ , actually… staying, the night, subjecting himself to her program the following days, it seemed that he was just at her disposal. If that was the case, there wasn’t much she needed him for, not really, she’d be seeing enough of him as is, and it’d been a long day for the both of them, in between Vaggie’s annoyance at her and anger at him, Angel popping up to flirt him into a corner of discomfort and just setting things up around the house.

But yet, she still didn’t entirely want to part ways with him. She should’ve, and it was one thing that Vaggie was entirely right about when it came to him; there was something about him that was more dangerous than anything she had ever encountered. But if he’d put himself up there voluntarily, how bad could he really be? Surely there was someone in there willing to change. And… there might’ve even been a key to her searching, an answer to the questions she’d had since she’d first seen such ghoulish horrors.

Her parents had always dismissed her concerns, eventually resolving to put her in with the family shrink who seemed interested in simply _brainwashing_ the problem out of her. Eventually, he’d left; why, she never knew. All she knew was she went in one day, had an explosive tantrum, fainted, woke up, and never saw him again. Her parents said he simply decided there was nothing else he could provide, and that was that.

For a long time, she’d grown accustomed to living with shadows, numb even to the freakish abnormal life form they took, whilst their host seemed so unaware. But Alastor had created something else, he had elicited feelings from _her_ where she was drawn into this world that she never wanted a part of to begin with. He was the first sign of a connection she had with this spirit realm, and she’d be damned if she didn’t take it, not when he was offering himself up like this.

“Well… I was wondering, if you’d be inclined for some dinner? Just to commemorate the start of our journey together,” She smiled as politely as she could, a part of her hoping he’d say yes, another hoping he wouldn’t, a voice in her head telling her this was a dangerous path to be going down.

Especially, when he stilled, turned to face her over her shoulder with such a rousing smile that she couldn’t help but feel a pang in her chest. “Why, I’d simply love to,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i'll be honest; i struggled with this chapter, because i want things to get on the road now but it IS only chapter 8 and all good things take time. there is more to the Malus Conglomerate, (Malus being the first half of the scientific name for Apple, and well, Ma being the first half of the surname Magne. Har di Har.) but again, all in due time.
> 
> Charlie's got her own hang ups and uses for Alastor, though are far more innocent and purehearted. anyway! see you next week!


	10. Unsatisfaction / Guaranteed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again! i am late! i'm really sorry about this one guys, i don't have an excuse except for a decline in my mental state since it's bridging on three months cooped up with little else but extensive readings and essays to do. i will be punctual in the upcoming week, which is going to be a big one! 
> 
> well, not really, but bigger than all this thus far – hence the change in rating. i think honestly, i was just fooling myself by thinking i would keep this t-rated for long, the e-rating right now is preemptive for violence, but whatever else might happen should surely fall under it too. hehehe.

Dinner was a non-event, if her goal was to coax out his shark-toothed shadow. It was hard to, when there was the candlelit atmosphere discouraging its presence, pleasant talk over wine and one or two lingering glances that she felt on Alastor’s end of the table in pockets of silence that settled between them. Dessert too, was not quite the success she hoped it would be since Alastor seemed more captivated by the contents of his coffee or the shine off her hair, or even the way she got a bit too excited about the crème brulee that made him chuckle as warmly as the fire on the tip of the candle burned. So, if it were success in the department of teasing unsuspecting smiles and a warm buzz in her stomach that she were after, she was a rousing one there.

That was, until, he was putting his jacket around her shoulders like the perfect gentleman on their way out, barely missing a lanky fellow who walked in as they were on their way out.

“Hey watch where you’re–,“ Began the sneer of the man who looked like he was ready to start some beef* until he noticed who he was talking to. Charlie had naively assumed that perhaps he was some fan of Alastor’s radio show, until the mild surprise turned into a leer.

“Oh ho, look at what the cat dragged in! What’s a fine dame with you doing out with a boob* like him?” The dark-haired stranger asked, tipping his hat to her as he jerked a thumb at Alastor.

“There there Victor, no need to prove you’re not a daisy* just because I bumped shoulders with you,” Alastor calmly replied, smoothing out a crease unnecessarily in the overcoat he’d slung over Charlie, causing goosebumps to rise on her arm under his touch.

“Can it you mug*, and it’s _Vox_ show some goddamn respect. You’re washed up, when you gonna get that message?” He smacked his hand against Alastor’s shoulder, still wearing his smug snigger, which Charlie was starting to dislike more than the grease he’d slicked into his hair to push it back.

“Maybe when the Triple V’s run me and every one of my beloved listeners out of business. Until then your little picture show fantasies are just that! Now, before you ruin my evening any further with your petty puss*, me and the lady have somewhere else to be,” Alastor grinned back, leaning forward towards him with a menacing look to his stature.

Charlie would’ve interjected at this point, especially with her being discussed in third person, one of her highest ranked pet peeves, if not for the way that Alastor’s shadow crept behind him when Vox grabbed him by the collar, yanking him close and whispering under his breath so Charlie couldn’t catch the words. What she did catch though, was the protrusive figure behind Vox too, a block like head, flickering like bits of film reel poised for a fight.

She was too gob smacked by seeing yet another new paranormal interaction to do much to break up what looked to be an ensuing fight, especially given the way the two shadows were circling each other, Alastor’s in particular baring it’s sharp teeth in an eerie grin, until the maître d’hôtel stepped in, clearing his throat loudly. Victor released Alastor’s collar, put his hands up in mock surrender and said, “No trouble at all sir, just some friendly jesting, you know how it is with us country boys,”

Alastor snorted in indignation and had there not been a pointed look from the front of the house, Charlie was fairly sure Victor would’ve taken a swing right at him. “Like this _gentleman_ said, there’s nothing to worry about. We were just on our way out, send my regards to the chef,” He said in a voice far too collected for the situation, before fixing a sharp look at Victor as he led Charlie through the doors.

+

“Vox… where have I heard that before?” Charlie mused to herself, a vocal distraction to the inner turmoil. Her eyes couldn’t help but flicker to the elongated stretch of foggy black behind him, phasing in and out of its normal form.

“Perhaps at the theatre. Victor’s latest endeavor has been in the development of the picture show. He has a _grand_ vision of a smaller, portable version of what we see in the theatres, one day living in everyone’s own living room! Ah, and to think you have grandiose dreams,” He chuckled to himself, the arm that stroked briefly along her arm from before finding itself back around her shoulders. This was fine, just two associates, out for their first business meal together, this was harmless. She had seen her father conduct intimate dinners in his own private dining quarters back at home and talked with them as he would his own brothers. Surely this level of increased intimacy between them was not unbecoming.

“And the Triple V’s? That must mean there are two others. Do they run in the same business?” She ventured, keeping her voice as level as possible as she made eye contact with the shadow that trailed behind them, his grin spreading as if he was entertained by her fumbling for harmless conversation.

It seemed this demonic incarnation of Alastor’s soul knew more the cause for her conversational topic than he himself knew, raising what could’ve been interpreted as an eyebrow at her feigned ignorance. To be fair to her, most of it was genuine; the name was one she had heard in passing, and not in her time spent in New Orleans. But what she knew of them had more to do with her past – specifically with _Angel._ The last clue she had gotten as towards where he’d gone off to, had been with a man named Valentino, associated with a group known as the Triple V’s. And if that was the sort of business Alastor had run into, and seemingly made enemies out of… she was going to need to do a lot more digging than she thought on just his _soul._

“Not quite. But let’s not let Victor’s unwelcome interruption ruin our night, hm?” He finally turned his face towards her, and she made a quick effort to meet his gaze instead of staring peculiarly over the very top of his head. The eyebrow quip he did was too eerily reminiscent of the shadow still following behind them, and she fixed her eyes on the ground instead with a small nod.

“Come now dear, what’s got you so distracted? You were in such a pleasant mood not short of half an hour ago!”

She glanced back up, his shadow, with its spiky angles reaching a hand up, shushing her with its grin still plastered before it dispersed into the night. For all she had seen in her life, she was honestly starting to wonder if her drink had been spiked. Never before had they noticed her, interacted with her, lingered so very long, and _separated_ from their host, adopting a personality of its own. She felt, far too dizzy to still walk the rest of the way.

“I’m just a bit sloshed, is all,” She meekly assured. “I’m not the very best at holding my liquor, it’s my mistake. I think what I really need is just a good rest to ease my mind,”

“Ah well if that’s the case,” He slipped his arms a little lower, causing her to redden slightly, until she was jerked off the ground and a small yelp escaped her lips. Her center of gravity was thrown off balance and instinctively, she reached out to grab hold of anything that would steady her – it just so happened to be what she found purchase on was the fabric of his shirt, bunching under her slim fingers.

“Charlie, darling, perhaps if you didn’t choke the air out of me with my own shirt this journey home will be hastened, wouldn’t you say?” He said as if he hadn’t just picked her up, adopting a pace befitting his height more than hers as he made his way back up towards the house, only a single window illuminated.

“Sorry,” She breathed, once she had realized that all he had done was pick her up – likely on the assumption that her distracted demeanor came from having to focus on the simple act of walking – and settled her arms awkwardly around his neck.

The journey was briefer than it would’ve been at her pace, and she was a little grateful, especially since the silence was filled with anecdotes he presented her from his working hours, and occasional bouts of humming under his breath which admittedly did settle her nerves, only peeking once more past his neck to see if there was any sign of jagged, inky black teeth grinning at her like a wolf looking at his prey.

“You needn’t have done that,” She fussed as he finally set her down on the tiles of the patio. The bush from Angel’s nosedive remained crumpled in a corner that made her wince, and weeds were starting to show, though Niffty had taken it upon herself to fix things up outside. “Surely, I am a grown woman, though it doesn’t always seem like it,” A slightly bitter laugh left her as she fumbled with the keys, unlocking the door as quietly as possible lest Vaggie still be up and in a mood to come down and inspect what the noise was.

“Nonsense,” He hushed her, opening the door for her and sliding an arm around her waist, jolting her accidentally closer in surprise. He hadn’t scooped her up again, she was grateful, not because she didn’t necessarily enjoy the contact, but if Vaggie was about it would only result in another earful for her. _And,_ it caused guilt to bubble from feeling that her best friend, one whom she had requested the presence of was starting to make her feel like she had to play secrets like a teenager sneaking a boy into her backyard. “Last thing any of us would’ve wanted was your doll-like face being ruined by a broken schnozzle*,”

She touched her finger to her nose with a small smile. “All is well doctor; think I can get the script to walk myself back up the stairs?”

“No can-do young missy, I must see to it that your condition stays as it is,” He grinned, leading her up the stairs with him, only pausing once they reached her door.

“Well, it seems I must leave you to venture the rest of the way alone. Think you can handle it?” He jested, though he lingered slightly at her door as she opened it, turning back to wish him a goodnight.

“I think I’ll be quite alright, thank you,” The sincere response melted away the sharper corners of his expression, and he was tempted to press a kiss to her knuckles, if the way his gaze flitted to her hand was any indication. Instead though, he straightened up, cleared his throat and turned with a small wave.

“If that’s the case, have a goodnight my dear, and I’ll see you bright and early in the morning,”

Having expected his usual gentlemanly display of parting, she herself straightened a little, folding her hands behind her back. “Yes, goodnight Alastor,”

She watched as he strolled down the hall towards his room, closing her door then as she touched a hand to her face. Even though some warmth had seeped into her hands since they’d reentered the house, her cheek was still hot to the touch. Hopefully that hadn’t been what had so suddenly scared him off, and she couldn’t help but replay the night, caught between the magical whimsy of the easy conversation to the more disturbing qualities she had encountered that night between Alastor and the company he seemed to keep.

Though, had she known what the man occupying her thoughts was doing as she sunk into her mattress, she might’ve let the cold back in from the chill she would’ve gotten, knowing he was artfully ducking out one of the door’s that Niffty had revealed to him, shucked of his evening wear and garbed in black, knives expertly hidden along his frame to complete the look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's that! here's our lingo list
> 
> Beef - trouble  
> Boob - a foolish/stupid/idiotic man  
> Daisy - A man who's not masculine  
> Mug - Man, but usually a dumb one  
> Puss - face  
> Schnozzle - nose
> 
> a wee bit shorter this one was than usual and kind of like last week was a bit harder to write; i'm not really sure how well it works, but if you're tired of the stagnation within this week timeframe, we will accelerate things in the coming chapters.


	11. You Gotta Estimate The Damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so! just to let you guys know I might be delayed next week, and that could be for a couple weeks, as I've got exams to handle. I might still be able to get a chapter up, but if not, you know why.

His hands were slick in the warmth of life, streaking red up his wrists and arms. It was a pity that despite his covert exit from the hotel his business still had to be conducted off site, at least for the time being. But being one for creature comforts he didn’t entirely mind it either, wiping his filleting knife off on a tea towel he kept in these quarters. He’d have little sleep for the night, but it would be sweet, the release of tension, and a handy bout of information to come with it.

His victim lay like an incomplete mannequin, head lolled back over the top of the chair he had been strapped down too, the fastenings holding him in place secured just so the blood flow wouldn’t be too disrupted. The last thing Alastor needed to deal with was clots in the cuts, or a vessel that would rudely spray when he tried to make neat work of his craft. He’d snagged a crumpled name card from the lackey, being one of the ones waiting for Vox that he spotted just as he left the restaurant’s premises with Charlie. What would come of it was an issue for tomorrow, for _now_ however…

“Shame, just a little too much fat and far too little muscle. I suppose the excess can be used as oil and lard,” He hummed disappointedly, setting down the knife for his incisions and taking up the rip-cut saw hanging from the wall before pressing it to the junction where shoulder dipped into arm.

“Luckily, this won’t hurt anymore,” He grinned wickedly before he applied pressure, watching flesh separate as if it were made of butter.

+

When he’d cleaned, stored the meat, done away with some of the bones and thrown some to the gators in the bayou, it was nearly 4 in the morning. He felt a little worse for wear, but in the long run this would serve his purpose well, and it wouldn’t help to be able to utilize the larger kitchen Charlie had. When he’d quietly returned to her looming property, he gingerly felt his way down the stairs, stiffening against the wall when he caught the faintest glimpse of Vaggie holding a candle and staring bleakly out a window.

Luckily, she hadn’t seemed to hear him quietly padding his way through the house, but still provided an obstacle to him – he couldn’t risk turning his back to her lest she catch him in the act of descending with a rucksack full of fresh meat. The markets weren’t exactly open yet to serve as his alibi. He slowed his breathing, so she’d focus on whatever contemplative thought was keeping her at the window. Even without direct contact, she was still proving a nuisance, and it felt like a century had passed before she turned back towards her room, just the faintest hint of a sigh escaping her.

The Grandfather clock in the living room read 5.30 when he was done storing the meat in the freezer, and he had but a couple hours or so before he was due to wake and head for work.

Handling Vaggie would have to be the next thing on his agenda if he wished to bide his time wisely and without waste.

#

The presence of Alastor around the place was welcomed, though at times a little disruptive to the slow rhythm she had started up once more with Vaggie. The quiet hours of reading together in silence were now replaced with Vaggie’s frustration from failing to break through in her end of the planned therapy with Alastor, leaving her huffing in anger as she slammed the door for nearly the fifth consecutive day in a row as she took off.

“I can’t do it Charlie, I just can’t _deal_ with him and his smarmy face,” She breathed, dragging her hands down her face just as the blonde rose to try and calm her down. “The worst part is I know what he’s doing– he’s making it difficult on purpose! He won’t tell me anything, and what he does tell me is so ludicrous it’s obviously just meant to rile me up! It won’t work if he doesn’t want to work with me,”

“I know,” Charlie reassured her, gliding her hands down the other woman’s arms. “I know, but there’ll be others like him. There’ll be those in worse conditions, those who will react far worse. If we can find a way to get through to him, we’ll make headway in getting through to everyone else who’ll put themselves in equally vulnerable positions when they come through those doors,” She nudged her head in the direction of the big oak doors, before she slid her arm around Vaggie’s shoulder, guiding her towards them. “Perhaps… I should take over, and you should do admin instead?”

“Charlie, this is your grand dream, I don’t want to go about ruining it with… well, my lack of knowing where exactly you need me to go. I’m here to help out, but I can’t run the whole thing,” She said warily, moving to sit on patio’s rocking chair. “And…”

“And?” Charlie prompted, knowing immediately where this was going, and what was likely to be the real reason for Vaggie’s hesitance.

“And I don’t like the thought of you two being alone,” She finally got off her chest, squeezing her eyes shut as if that would shut out the reality of the words having been said.

“Vaggie–“

“No hear me out. I… while a part of me acknowledges it’s because of…” Her hands made some wild flail between the two of them, her cheeks darkening a tone. “Us. And, well, how I still sometimes miss you and… your laughter, and how once you looked at me the way you sometimes are starting to look at him,” The crack in her voice was felt in Charlie’s chest, winding its way between her ribs and squeezing so as to cause her an uncomfortable throb. “It’s also just because I don’t think he deserves it. Not because I’m.. you know… _jealous…_ but because I’m sure that there’s more to him than meets the eye. The way he talks sometimes, when I’m doing Rorschach tests on him, or he’s goading me into a fight, it’s like there isn’t a fiber of him that could feel even the beginnings of sympathy or empathy. Or _anything._ His eyes Charlie, they’re hollow, his expression is solely in his smile which he _never_ seems to lose!”

Charlie quietly settled beside her against the hanging swing, taking one of Vaggie’s hands in her own with a gentle squeeze. “You don’t need to miss me. I’m right here,”

“Are you?”

She pursed her lips and looked away to watch a couple of birds fighting over a crumb of something in the dirt. “I am. I know it’s not quite in the way I once was, but I’ll always be here. Why do you think I asked you to visit? I need you Vaggie. And I don’t want to put you in a position whereby you’re not happy, or comfortable. Besides, we both know you were always better at being organized than I was,” She smiled warmly, looking back to meet her eyes. “I can handle Alastor, and even if there’s something wrong with him, it’s about making sure he doesn’t use it for wrongdoing. I think I can get through to him, somehow, so just let me see what I can do to help. Besides, I wouldn’t be the face of this whole thing if I didn’t actually partake in the practice, right?”

The beat of silence was resignation enough, despite the glimmer of despair that lingered on Vaggie’s face.

#

Truth be told, Alastor had little interest in taking any of this seriously, despite the word he gave Charlie, it was still something he thought plainly obvious. But, as he tried to convey to her irritable comrade, and eventually Charlie, he also believed himself an exception to that rule. He wasn’t one to be gullible, nor easily swayed by his emotions. He was careful with his actions and decisions, and only allowed one person to hold total control over his mind, body and soul: himself.

That couldn’t be said for many others, men had gotten into fights over as little as a shoulder bump, if the encounter with Vox was anything to go by. What they needed wasn’t silly ink blot cards, even sillier serene chimes played on a record that had been wasted on their noise, or any of the daytime strolls Vaggie had tried to coax him into even though she looked sourer about it than him. What they needed was someone to offer them familiarity, understanding, compassion, warmth.

“And you my dear, seem to have an abundance of it. You need to learn to share that, to harvest it. But not,” He iterated, stealing her flyers from her grasp. “Overzealous with it. A one-time show that you are willing to let them come to you, instead of trying to drag them into it, is a smarter play,”

“But how exactly am I meant to get the word out? And don’t, say you think I should go on your show, I imagine that’s just the sort of thing a lot of your audience would take pleasure in eating up,” She groused, trying to pull the papers from his hands to no avail.

“No worries my dear, I think you need more than to just be heard,” He crumpled the flyers, tossing them with precision into the wastepaper basket. “You need to be seen,”

“I think I have been seen, except all the times I have it’s just been to discredit me,” She groaned, moving towards the garbage until he tugged her back by her elbow, keeping her from retrieving the childish handouts.

“Yes well, back then you didn’t have a guiding voice with his way around the media,” He reminded her, moving around her front to gently push her into a seated position on the chaise set up in one of the rooms. Seating himself beside her, he casually crossed his legs, peered out the window towards the town, and felt the beginnings of a plan brewing.

“There’s a charity fundraiser coming up, it often doubles as a festival for the town. I’d say it’s about a couple months away, and, if you find a way to get the word out then, you might be able to lure not only prospectful clients in, but you’ll be able to start a wildfire chatter about your grand rehabilitation plan,” He explained, looking back to find her quizzical gaze upon him.

“Besides, you will be the belle of the ball no doubt with this darling little face of yours,” He added, sliding his fingers under her chin to give it a tiny, affectionate shake.

“So, what I just… show up, toot my own horn?” She asked once she had managed to worm her face out of his grasp with a small laugh.

“Well, yes and no. Before that happens, you’ll probably need to meet some of the organizers to help find your way in it all, but luckily for you I happen to know some of those on the committee,” He grinned, leaning back against the couch.

“You’d do that for me?” She asked, starting to glow more and more at this plan as it took shape.

“I’ve done this whole shindig for you, haven’t I?” He shrugged. “There’s no harm in talking to a few friends to see what I can do to actually help your plan take shape like I said I would,”

Her eyes may as well have been _sparkling,_ and before he knew it she had thrown her arms around his neck, causing him to stiffen like a plank. “Oh gosh, thank you so much Alastor! It’s more than I could’ve ever dreamed of! All I had planned really was just handing out those flyers,”

“I’m aware,” He stiffly responded, unsure what to do with his hands that hovered around her. “It’s really not a big deal Charlie, I can assure you,”

“It is, because it proves you’re willing to do something to help someone other than yourself,” She practically squealed, pulling back enough to look him in the eye, arms still thrown haphazardly around his neck.

“Erm, well, yes, I suppose,” He awkwardly cleared his throat, her bright eyes so much more distinct in their color he noticed, getting a little distracted by them and the tiny freckles on her pale button nose before he untangled himself from her. “There’s no guarantees, but it might help if you came with me,”

“It’s a date!” She excitedly squealed, leaping up from her chair. “Oh, I should go tell Vaggie, and see what I can do to spruce up things around here! Thank you Alastor!” She said before disappearing down the corridor, leaving his collar a little disheveled and his cheeks a little hot.

Maybe, she wasn’t entirely wrong in there being an ounce of selflessness in his actions, seeing how she was the first person since the death of his darling mother that he’d permitted such a careless show of affection. One that, dare he say it, might have even welcomed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wee-ooo, wonder why he's storing his kills in dear ol' Charlie's freezer? I wonder who these friends he speaks of are at? where are husk and angel? stay tuuuunneeed
> 
> also, don't forget, i have a twitter where i'll post updates of the fic, and soon... possibly art, once I get my lazy butt to do some @grapeyfruits


	12. State Your Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wew! late as I said I would be but I have made up for it in length aaaand in preparing to upload another chapter at the end of the week! there are some new characters introduced, most familiar save for one hehe

“So, today’s the big day huh, the day you finally meet some of your boyfriend’s friends? What’s next, the family?” Angel said, voice muffled through the bobby pins he had stuck in his mouth as he messed with Charlie’s hair, twirling it this way and that in the curlers until he seemed happy with their position.

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” She reminded Angel, again, a sigh following soon after as she quickly evaded his gaze in her vanity. “He’s my business partner. And it doesn’t seem like he’s got much family for me to meet,” She casually mentioned, inspecting her cuticles with a scrutinizing eye. She knew that Rosie was among those Alastor kept at a close range, and it was bad enough she had stumbled upon them both in one of her more lackluster outfits when the woman ran a shop full to the brim of delicate clothing. But then there were the others – Stolas, she knew of, simply because his reputation preceded him. Having come from one of the oldest families in education, his intellect had even reached the ears of her father.

_“A man like that is more than simply a University dean,”_ He had once hummed with one of those knowing smirks. _“ Especially with some of the people he chooses to associate with,” _

Cryptic as it was, she had made her own deductions about that. And, given the run in she had with Vox from weeks prior, it seemed that seedy individuals surrounded Alastor’s social circle. She couldn’t exactly judge him though – Angel’s father had been one of the biggest crime bosses New York had seen, which meant his own company was far and few between criminals and crooks.

Speaking of Angel… “So, the therapizing’s been working out then?” He asked with a raised eyebrow as he meddled with the twirl of hair that curled stubbornly across her eyebrow. “If he’s talkin’ to you ‘bout family and what not,”  
  


“Not quite,” She bit at her lower lip. Since she’d swapped roles with Vaggie, the progress she had made with Alastor was minimal at best. Most of his time when he did decide to actually engage with her, was finding a way to work the conversation back into being about her, and it usually took her too long to realize she was so easily talking to him about small, mundane little things he’d asked just to have a change in topic. At the very least, he now knew that she liked to nurse a cup of Orange Pekoe tea in the morning and switch around to an Earl Grey once sundown began. He also seemed to have remembered her mentioning that she’d missed her old balcony that provided her a wonderful view of the moon, leading her up to a peak one day where it seemed to shine brighter than she had seen it before. If anything, he was playing her like putty, and guiltily, she could reflect how she didn’t even entirely mind that.

“It’s more like he throws me a nugget of something every now and then so I can’t quite call him out,” She heaved a sigh, flinching away from a hot iron rod Angel brought near her hair. “But I’m obviously aware of it and the fact that I haven’t given him too much grief about it seems to him that I’m perfectly fine to let it happen. And… well, maybe I am? He did point out that he’s a tougher nut to crack than most and quite frankly that’s been more than apparent,” She rambled on, finally relaxing when Angel put a hand to her shoulder to still her while he ironed out her curls.

He hummed in a reassuring way, carding his slender fingers through her hair until the curls fell more naturally around her. “…Speaking of _nuggets,_ ”

“No,” She quickly responded, expression falling flat. Trust Angel to spin the conversation in his favor. “Not until we’re properly set up at least. I love him too but, you know how it’ll look if we have a piglet running around the place,” His pale eyes met hers in the mirror with a steely look but eventually the light was snuffed out in resignation.

“Alright alright toots, you better hope to God you work that perky behind of yours to get this place off the floor then. Lord knows fat nuggets has been yearning to see daddy dearest again,” He sighed drearily, finally stepping away to fiddle with his copious amount of makeup.

“Angel!” She reddened, pressing a hand to her cheek until he yanked it away with an impatient ‘tsk’. “I’d like to think you have more faith in what I’ve been working on that I could count on that instead of my looks,” She pouted, the little snicker that followed only deepening her downward dimple.

“Yeah pipe down ya lil’ bearcat*,” He smirked, turning her face in his hands with his deft fingers as he powdered her cheeks. “But hey, don’t act like you didn’t turn on the charm to get not one but _two_ sheik’s* workin’ for you, you ain’t exactly the most convincing with your ghost stories,” He mused, licking his lips at the thought which earned him a guttural groan as she snapped her fingers to recapture his attention on the task at hand.

“I’m not sure if Husk is what I’d consider a _sheik_ ,” She mentioned. The look she was giving him was full of questions that had been piled up in the weeks since the bartender had taken up work, which seemed to consist of making his way through the stash of giggle water* meant for future patients, pulling a Daniel Boone* somewhere outside since Niffty always caught him just in time to spare the paneling, and telling Angel in various foul ways how to get lost. On Angel’s part, there was a familiarity with which he spoke that he kept from Charlie, only encountered when he himself was a little too plastered to realise she was mousing around in the kitchen for a snack and happened to overhear the exchange.

“No? You don’t like a rugged man, with strong arms and a bad mouth?” He asked with a follow up at the ready. “Didn’t need to tell me as much since you stick around that four-eyed beanpole more than I seen you with any man, makin’ your goo goo eyes whenever he forgets when to pipe down. Only Vaggie still got him beat,” The cold touch of the lipstick to her lips jolted her out of the way he was obviously trying to stir her with his words.

“He’s not my–“

“Boyfriend? Heard you loud and clear, but not if he keeps putting the charm on you. I mean c’mon dollface, he’s risking his neck for you with not just his pals but also some serious swell’s*. Charity be damned, you and I grew up in a world where we oughta know a status pissing contest when we see one,”

His lips smacked as an obvious show that she should follow suit, and he spun her by the shoulders to face herself in the mirror. Her fingers delicately touched her cheek, lips pursing once before she gaped at herself like a goldfish. “Your skills have only gotten better since I last saw you,” She mumbled, grateful for the opportunity to not have to comment on his earlier observations.

“This angel’s got wings now hun, and lemme tell ya,” He popped his hip, putting a proud hand to it. “She’s been soaring with the eagles. Now, you gonna get out of that smock or what? You’re not visiting the dumpster,”

#

“You know, I hope you’re right about this girl – I had a serious opportunity with an agent today, and instead I’m freezing down to my ankles and waiting on the promises of a witch,” Mimzy scowled, taking another long drag of her cigarette.

“Perhaps you ought’ve chosen something a little warmer than that spiffy garment you sacrificed your warmth for,” He shot her a patronizing look, one that Rosie seconded.

“I have an appearance to upkeep, even if you’ve neglected _yours_ for some _sheba_ you now live with,” She spitefully glared at him, folding her arms with an air of impatience to her. “And Rosie darling, though I adore you,” She began, a little sweeter, before frowning. “Why exactly are you here?”

“Can’t I be? You seem to forget I’m the one that _dresses_ anyone of significance around these parts! You wouldn’t be half the woman you are today without my work Mimzy darling!” The toothy grin she shot the shorter broad was nothing short of malicious, and it was enough to cause the chubbier woman to cross her arms and keep her silence.

“Besides Mimzy, green certainly isn’t your style,” Alastor and Rosie snickered in unison, sharing a look of mirth at the expense of the flapper who was beginning to look more lobster than vegetable at this rate. “I don’t live with her, a fact you are well aware of, nor is it because she’s someone who’s caught my fancy,” Though, the way he spotted the blonde who popped up at the gate of Stolas’ winding driveway in a lovely collared dress the shade of magnolias, all smiles and bright eyes seemed to indicate a very different truth from that of his words.

“Ah, is that her then?” The man of the hour finally spoke up, after having glanced away from the thick book he had sat on his lap. “I’ll fetch Billy,” He said simply, sparing a few words to his butler to fetch another pot of tea for the arrival of their guest with an accompanying seat.

“Hello,” She finally said, sounding rather out of breath as she reached them, the chill having set in under the light powder on her face so that he could see the flushes where it had touched her in her cheeks, and where gooseflesh rose around her neck. But it was the way she spoke that captivated him; his attention drawn to the crimson of her lips. It wasn’t a color he was unfamiliar with, one he was in fact _deathly_ fond of, so much so that he was a little too distracted by watching the flash of white nibbling at them, the way the pressed and moved apart to listen to what she was saying.

“Alastor?” Mimzy impatiently asked, snapping her fingers in front of his glazed eyes after a prolonged silence.

“Ah – sorry, my mind was adrift for a second there, what was that dear?” He asked, forcing his gaze up at her eyes, another lurch in his stomach felt at the pull this new alluring pair had on him. It was beginning to become a wonder if he would make it through a word she had to say for the remainder of this session.

The poor girl however seemed to have misinterpreted this as a sign to start being overcome with the telltale signs of insecurity that he noticed from how she clutched her hands at the edges of her coat, her eyes nervously flitting away to look at whatever non-descript object they would fall on.

“Oh– well, I was just apologizing for, well, running late, I hope you weren’t waiting too long. I just thought it was fitting that I get together some of what I was planning on talking about the day of the charity, and what I might offer so as to raise funds,” She repeated, before reaching into her basket to hand out papers to Rosie and Mimzy. “Was there someone el–“

“Ah! Charlotte Magne! There’s a name I haven’t heard in a while!” A tall man said with flair as he burst from the door, an identifying top hat of silken black, only disrupted by a single broad, golden feather. “Come here my dear, I’d like to see what dear old Louis and Lilith have made you into,” He crooned, angling a finger his way to which she only silently obeyed, save for a small sigh of annoyance that Alastor caught.

Stolas stroked her cheeks, her shoulders and then took her hands, pressing a kiss to the knuckles of each. “A fine young woman indeed. Quite the beauty you are, Lilith must’ve had a hand in that, oh, but your cheeks! The youth of Louis Seth Magne must be known to all hm?” He gestured to the spare seat, before moving to languidly lean back in his. “Now what’s this plan you’ve got Alastor Roscoe all wrapped around your finger over?”

“Stolas,” Alastor lowered his tone and fixed him with a warning glare, sitting with his hands folding over a knee.

“Yes yes, my apologies, what you’ve gotten _several_ people interested in?” He ignored with little interest, only flickering his gaze towards the door to beckon someone else out.

Billy Bael waited against a pillar as the butler fetched another chair, casting his gaze upon Charlie with such intent that Alastor was beginning to feel the grips of annoyance – though why exactly, he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Possibly, it was the smug demeanor of the philanthropist that this was an audition for his big act of service to the community that seemed so oxymoronic it could’ve been made into one of Alastor’s cruel anecdotes on the radio. Or, it was the way he raked his eyes over Charlotte like a fresh piece of meat that he was estimating the best by date on. Either way, Alastor was starting to feel an unpleasant feeling crawling its way through him.

“Oh, um, well,” She started, noticing the head of Bael Towers watching her with keen intent with a falter in her voice. “As I’m sure you might’ve heard glimpses of… I’ve for a while, been hyperaware of the more…” She paused, racking her mind for the appropriate word. “Distasteful aspects of humanity. But not as one sees a twisted monster that ought to be caged, or a dog that’s been infected by the touch of rabies and has lost its way, but as one sees innocent people haunted by specters of society’s making that can be negated through opportunity,”

She steadied herself with a breath, looking around in mild surprise to find all eyes keenly watching her. “What I mean to say is, I think that for a long time now, the act of putting to death people that haven’t had a chance to live free of their shadows, or, showing people a path of light before they get misled by the darkness, is a failing of society,” She furrowed her brows, the passion rising in her voice. “I don’t mean to preach because this isn’t a matter of religion. I have seen people be tempted by the lure of the dark, and while most might see the consequences of what is to come of that as punishable, I see an opportunity to steer them away and save not just them, but a community as a result. I want to give people that opportunity, that reprieve, that sanctuary to get away from what ails them and do what I can to drive it away. I want to give them more than an ear to listen to, I want to give them a retreat, a _home,_ for many have lost the feeling that they belong in their own skin,”

“What’s so different from what you’re doing and the looney bin full of quacks that we have?” Billy spoke finally, his raspy deep voice snapping everyone out of the reverie Charlie had put them in.

“Well, I won’t electrocute them, for starters,” She haughtily responded, having lost any of her earlier nervousness. Alastor felt a prideful jolt. “And they would be free to leave whenever they like,” The silence dragged too long for her before she added, albeit with more hesitation. “And… I would be able to tell when differences are being made. The collection of information regarding what helps and what doesn’t might… really change things, and it’s not something I want to waste,”

“Is this in regard to how you can see ghosts?” Mimzy piped up, smirking at the blonde opposite her now that she had found an opening to weasel her way into and attack. “How you can see, the ‘evil’ in everyone?”

Charlie blinked slowly at her, and for a second Alastor was afraid that her confidence might crumble, and it would be up to him to try and save a slowly sinking ship. “Yes, yes, it is,” Was her assured response instead. “And instead of turning it into a spectacle, I’m trying to put some use to what most of you might think is a curse. If I have to live with this, I should do something good with it, shouldn’t I?”

Well, he certainly hadn’t expected that! His widened gaze met hers, and he cracked her a huge grin, one that she returned in a small but radiant smile.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Billy finally addressed after a slew of laughter. “That’s about the wackiest nonsense I ever did here, you slay me* Magne,” He continued to chuckle, wiping at the edge of his eyes. Her face looked close to crestfallen before he raised a hand, large and calloused. “Now hold up doll, I never did say no. You’ve got spirit I’ll tell you what,” He settled, rested his hands flat and interlocked his fingers together. Mimzy was watching him, looking torn between telling him not to consider it, or playing the patient, obedient canary to him and eagerly awaiting what he had to say. Rosie was just all too bemused by it. Stolas, as it seemed, was as enraptured by Charlie as he first was.

And Alastor felt like he’d yet again, struck gold with this little blonde oracle.

“You got yourself a deal girl. I’ll let you in on this charity. But I’ll need you to think of how you can contribute. Bring your ideas to me in the next two weeks, we’ll work it out to have it fit,”

“Sir–“ Mimzy began, a crease forming between her eyebrows.

“No Mimzy, I want none of this catfighting while I’m here, you take it to your end of town where the dames go to bruise one another,” He waved off impatiently. He stood, withdrawing a business card from his blazer before handing it to Charlie. “You ring me if you need anything until then, and I’ll look forward to seeing just what you can do for us folk here,” He said, flashing her a grin fixed with a silver tooth before standing to leave. “I’ll be off now Stolas, do come see me about that little bit a’ land we were talkin’ bout’,” He said lowly with a wink, before turning on his heel and heading for his car.

“Well, congratulations dear, that was quite the speech you gave!” Rosie exclaimed in glee, clapping her hands together. “Now, once things are settled with you and Mr. Bael, you must drop by so I can get you fitted for the event, yes? It’d be nice to have someone who suits the caliber of my clothing in my emporium once more,” She stood herself, reaching for her parasol. “Alastor, you best make sure she comes in looking just as radiant on the day! I don’t want a wrinkle out of place,” She said in a sing-songy voice as she offered her hand for him to kiss before she parted.

“Congratulations _are_ in order I agree,” He proudly stated, moving towards where Charlie still seemed shell-shocked by such a well-received performance. “Mimzy! Didn’t you have a performance coming up later this evening?” He said, crooking his head towards where the flapper was disdainfully regarding them.

“Well– I– yes, I… I do,” She grumbled. Ever the performer, there was no way she would let her brusied ego get the better of her if there was a chance that Alastor would come and see her on stage. “Although it’s _opera_ I certainly doubt it’s the most entertaining choice to spend one’s night, perhaps when I’m in the speakeasy I might–“

“Nonsense!” Stolas spoke for them. “The Magne family is a refined lineage, Charlotte, were you not cradled by one of our countries most renowned Opera singers?” He supplanted, unknowingly working the cogs on Alastor’s very own plan.

“I mean… yes, I suppose so,” She blushed a little. “It _has_ been a while since I attended and I always did love to attend my mother’s performances growing up,”

“Well,” Mimzy tartly said, forcing herself to smile. “Then I suppose tonight will be perfect. I suspect you’ll be accompanying her Alastor?”

“Naturally,” He smiled back, holding his ground.

“I unfortunately have matters to attend to,” Stolas sighed. “But the three of you, have a toast on my behalf! Charlotte, as rousing as your father, send him my regards,”

“Of course,” She said with an edge of tightness to her response that warranted a curious side glance. “Thank you once more Stolas for hosting us, especially in hosting my wishes to participate,”

“Now then,” Alastor said once the three heard the creak of the large gates behind them. “Mimzy dear, we shan’t hold you back from your rehearsals. Besides you were shivering in that dress of yours, earlier weren’t you? I’ll put you in a cab right away so that we can shake that chill off. Can’t have the star of the show falling ill on us!” His hand flicked up faster than she could protest, and within minutes, she was packed away into a taxi seat, looking as dejected as ever. “Now smile my darling, you’re never fully dressed without one!” He gleefully said, slamming the door shut.

“Was Miss Mimzy alright? I didn’t quite get a chance to talk to her,” Charlie curiously asked from behind him as he swiveled back offering his elbow.

“Oh ho, certainly, you know how these _actresses_ can be, just a little bit dramatic at times. Now! I think we have a very special night ahead, don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick word before i go on with my typical end notes: to all my POC readers in America especially, and everywhere else, this week has been a devastating and tiring one. I hope that you all are doing as well as you can despite all that's happening, and I spend everyday hoping that things might change, in the smallest of ways to dismantle systemic racism. donate to funds supporting the bail of innocent protestors, reshare posts educating anyone on the matter, and be present for your minority friends. these are hard times because of covid, and harder times now because of yet another life lost in the battle against racial prejudice. i love you all, and i stand with you, my thoughts are with you and your families. 
> 
> now for the end notes,
> 
> Bael, is from the Ars Goetia as is Stolas, and is the maddest lad of them all (incidentally, he is also a mad lad in a comic series entitled the Wicked and the Divine, if you lovelies are into an M-rated Percy Jackson of sorts). Naturally, given that he's the big dog, I've made him a real estate developer in this universe. 
> 
> this was a much longer chapter than usual, but I thought it was fitting. I might have stumbled over my words here or there, and as per usual, do let me know! I tend to be scatterbrained even when I reread things. 
> 
> aaaand, here's our slang list:  
> Bearcat - fiery woman  
> Sheik - good looking man  
> Giggle water - alcohol   
> Pulling a Daniel Boone - vomitting, usually due to intoxication  
> Swell - Rich men  
> You Slay Me - you crack me up


	13. quick update!!

just in case I've been keeping anyone waiting: 

I know I said I'd have a chapter up a few days ago, but in hindsight that was an overzealous reach of mine. I'll be caught up in writing my exam essays until the 22nd, which will consist of.. more essays than I'd personally like to write, and might be a little burnt out from it all for another day or two. I might, perhaps get distracted with writing and accomplish the goal I want and upload the new chapter before then but the chances are.. slim. And also I really should not be distracted and really should just blacklist this site until my exams are over.

Anyhow, apologies for that but I promise once all is said and done I will have ample amounts of time to spend developing this little universe!!

Thank you for your patience, and if any of you want to keep in touch or see what I'm up to until then, you can catch me on twitter @ grapeyfruits. 

Have a lovely couple of weeks!


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